Where Courage Ignites
by Sophia Anne Moore
Summary: It wasn't until I was 15 that my parents promised me we were done moving. They enrolled me in East High School and I got the chance to redefine my identity how I wanted. But my eagerness to control my reputation made me vulnerable, and worse, may have cost me everything.
1. Yet Another Move

**Revision Notice: No major plot points have been altered, but I have revised and added some new material since the original publication date. Most important to mention, I stuck some of the shorter chapters together and split up some of the longer ones to get a closer range on the chapter length. Due to these changes, some of the reviews from before June 20, 2018 may not correlate with the material in that chapter.**

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **1\. Yet Another Move**

 _January 6th, 2018 (Saturday)_

Before you judge me based on this rhinestone-laced spine and the _Princess_ bedazzled in white and pink sparkles, know that I don't identify as someone who's obsessed with glitter, the color pink, or being a princess. When my choices were either this ancient birthday present from when I turned seven or explode, I had to swallow my pride. The truth is, it was nothing but my own sheer desperation that forced this particular journal into my hands.

I find myself curled up in the backseat of our congested 2006 minivan, anxiously scribbling these words as though they'll escape if I don't pen them quick enough. Three things impede my progress. One: my baby sister occasionally chucking cheerios over her head at me. Two: my father obnoxiously singing along to 80s music on the radio. Three: a wave of nausea and motion sickness from the subtle sway of the van as we rocket through the mountainous terrain.

Why did my parents think it was such a genius idea to take a _six hour_ road trip from Phoenix to Albuquerque? Who cares about scenery when we're stuck with _six hours_ of dirty public rest stops, gas station meals, and soul-crushing boredom? Just when I think I can't bare another millisecond trapped like this, our glitch-y GPS sent us off the wrong exit and onto an hour-long detour.

Once we finally arrived to the new house, I rested my hand on the door handle in anticipation for the moment my mother would park the vehicle. The locks finally popped up and I quickly slid the door open to hop onto the concrete below. I stretched my cramped legs until my knees and ankles released satisfying pops. I approached the garage door and laid my hand on its warm metal surface. I looked across the length of the house along the bland white siding that wrapped around the exterior.

I walked the length of the driveway all the way back to where it connected with the street. The conformity and silence of this perfect little bubble on the outskirts of the city probably made the homeowner's association feel safer, but to me, it felt eerie. The 'peaceful' quiet was trying to deceive me…I just knew it.

"Gabriella!" My mother barked from the driver window, "Get Isabella! Can't you hear her crying?"

I slid the door open and confronted my bawling three-year-old sister still held in by her car seat with snot dripping down her nose. "Hey, Isa-baby!" I greeted her happily, only to receive a disgruntled scream in response. I unlatched the car seat constraints and brought my hands underneath her arms to lift her out. The moment her feet connected with the ground, she instantly stopped crying. She looked up at me with a mischievous smirk on her little mouth. As expected, she took off towards the lawn. "Where do you think you're going?" I chased after her, her orange dress flowing behind her as she stomped atop the grass. "Get back here!" I laughed, reaching my hands out to her tauntingly. She joyfully screamed and kept running from me until she tripped over her clumsy feet that have always been too big for her. "Uh oh!" I knelt onto the grass in front of her. She wore a sad little pout until I offered my hands out to her and said, "Come here!" She eagerly pressed her small hands into my palms and we rose together. I twirled the little girl around, a joyous expression fixed on her face as the world spun behind her.

When I heard my father call out my name, I looked back to where he stood at the front door. He was awkwardly using the side of the house to balance a box on his knee while reaching into his pocket. I grasped for Isabella's little hand and led her over to him. He asked, "Could you open the door?" He offered out his ring of keys. I did as he asked and followed him inside with Isabella on my hip.

She gasped, "Sparkle!" I followed the gaze of her big, brown eyes to the ceiling where a modest chandelier twinkled above us. I wandered further into the house into the den where our furniture sat still covered in plastic wrap and packing material. Isabella poked me in the collarbone and said, "Look!" I spotted a staircase to the left of an arch back through the foyer. I took Isabella up the dim staircase, brought her to the first door on the left, and crouched down.

I asked in my baby voice, "Can you open it? Can you _twist_ the _handle_?"

She stretched out her arm and wrapped her small fingers around the golden knob. "'Dere y'go," she said as I pushed the door in with my knee. Inside waited her low bed, armchair, and a mountain of toys.

"It's _your_ room, Isabella!" She squirmed excitedly in my arms. I set the toddler down on the floor only for her to immediately run over to her kitchen set. "Do you want to find sissy's room?"

"No," she said, preferring to bang her plastic spatula against the fake stove in her kitchenette.

A voice from downstairs rang out, "Gabriella! Isabella!"

I gasped in exaggerated surprise, "Who is that?"

The voice below continued, "Come get dinner!"

"Do you want food?"

Isabella said, "I cook." She wielded her spatula in the air.

"Mommy and daddy have food. Let's go get some food. Come on!" I offered my hand over the little countertop to her.

"I cook!"

I lowered my voice, "Isabella."

"I cook!" She grabbed the plastic fried egg, "Gabby eat!" She dropped the fake food on the counter.

"Gabby and Izzy go eat _real_ food downstairs!"

"Gabby eat Izzy's food, here!"

I heard shuffling behind me and turned around to spot my mom leaning her slender figure against the doorframe. "Are you two _still_ playing?" She shook her head.

"Egg!" Isabella said, picking up the plastic fried egg again and proudly lifting it into the air to show mom.

"Bring the egg with you and come downstairs with Mommy and sissy," she ordered, offering out her hand to her.

Isabella threw the egg over her shoulder onto the floor and ran to take my mom's hand.

I said, "Or not," and followed them out the door. While they descended the staircase, I continued my discovery exhibition into the next room. There, I found my twin bed barricaded in by countless boxes marked _GABRIELLA_. I sat down on the bare mattress and glanced around the room, the foreign location and unpacked boxes somehow still a familiar sight.

I stopped counting the moves after it got to fifteen, but some of them still stand out. I was only five when we lived in Chicago, so naturally, I gravitated towards a playground. It was an island of sand surrounded by sprawling, luscious grass in one of the city's biggest parks. I used to need my dad to pick me up just so I could reach the monkey bars. With his encouragement, but against my mom's caution, I would pull my nimble body through the gap in bars and come out on top of them. From there, I'd crawl around on top of the monkey bars, my dad's massive hands hovering along like protective shadows beneath me to catch me if I fell.

One afternoon, my mom and dad were preoccupied with an especially chatty neighbor, so I ran ahead to the playground without them. I climbed up the ladder and yelled for my dad to give me a boost to reach the bars. He started walking across the endless grass towards me, my impatience perceiving it to take longer. I looked up at the first bar, taunting me as its yellow paint glistening in the setting sunlight. I smiled at the thrill of its temptation. My father yelled, "Wait!" but I was already airborne. My small body stretched in the air until my right hand gripped onto the cold metal of the bar.

"I did it!" I squealed in excitement. My other hand joined at the bar and I dangled proudly, smiling at him, "I did it, daddy!" He stopped a few yards away from the monkey bars, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face as he peered at my great accomplishment.

Awhile later, shortly after I turned twelve, we moved from a cramped Manhattan apartment to a rural town in Minnesota. Our cabin was cozy with big, inviting windows that we would leave open in the Summer to welcome the cool Minnesotan breeze inside. I still remember the day that my mother and I decided to finally look through the cabinets full of dishes the previous owners had abandoned on their move. We tossed the majority of them, but I found a porcelain tea set equipped with an intricate pot and two saucers for three little cups. Whenever we made tea, I would give my mother the teacup with a red butterfly and my father the one with a brown owl. For myself, I'd save the bird with light blue feathers that faded to yellow on the very tips of its wings.

As wonderful as that afternoon tea tradition was, my favorite part of that house was the wooden dock. At the opposite side of the backyard, slabs of decorative stepping-stones served as a trail over the grass and mud. Overgrown shrubbery and tree branches would tickle at our legs and face as we passed through the threshold. On the other side was a lake so big we couldn't see the cabins and trees across it. I'd carefully maneuver atop the creaky and wobbly wooden boards to the very end of the dock where serenity and silence awaited. The bright sun above and the quiet chirps and buzzes of nature made for a perfect reading atmosphere. Occasionally during windy days, bigger waves would splash into the support beams submerged in the water. The boat would loudly hit against the dock and startle me, but that meant it was time to go inside. A storm was approaching.

I don't remember what came after Minnesota. I honestly don't remember a lot of places. I've been to so many, but very few stick with me like Minnesota and Chicago. I like a cool breeze underneath the sun and a tree within reach. I couldn't find a spot like that in Phoenix. Maybe I just didn't get enough time to discover one. Usually, I don't. I'm rarely ever given the chance to call a house "home" before they ship everything off again. Sitting in this new bedroom for the umpteenth time, I thought of an imaginary argument I could have with them and murmured the perfect rebuttal to myself. I felt my hands instinctively dig into the mattress beneath me and my face flush over with warm blood. In the middle of a rant about the unfairness of their decisions dictating my life, the sound of my name brought me back into reality and startled me enough to shake off the frustration. I yelled back, "Coming!"

My father had run to the nearest fast-food restaurant to pick us up some greasy burgers for dinner. I didn't want to finish mine, far too spoiled from my dad's expert grilling to be able to stomach a fast-food burger anymore.

As I was gathering paper bags to toss, my mother dug into her tote and exposed a sparkly book. "Gabriella, I found this in the backseat. Is it yours?"

I tried to hide my initial surprise, but I'm certain she caught onto my nervousness. "Yes," I took the book from her. "I was just journaling a little."

"I didn't look at it," mom crossed to the sink to toss her water down the drain.

"You ready to wash up, Isabella?" I asked my sister who was still gnawing on her last chicken nugget.

"I'll take care of Isabella tonight. You should get some rest. I'm taking you on a lot of errands tomorrow."

* * *

 _January 7th, 2018 (Sunday)_

The necessities for this breakfast had been unpacked, although we were still surrounded by stacks of boxes on the counters and floor. "Do you like your new room?" Dad asked me, his dark brown eyes still peering down at the crossword puzzle on the kitchen table between us. Some things never changed no matter where we are. For example, the morning paper always has a hypnotic hold on my father. The kitchen could catch on fire, but he wouldn't smell the burning until the cartoon section at least.

"What's not to like about it? Has a bed. A closet."

As she sautéed the vegetables at the stove, mom chimed in, "It's bigger than your last one."

"I don't think it is."

"Well, it sure will feel that way without your desk in there."

I quickly shook my head in confusion. "We didn't move my desk?" I could understand why they didn't want to keep it anymore since it wobbled horribly and had been found on the side of the road many years ago, but I had grown somewhat attached to that safety hazard. I've been studying on since I was ten when mom started homeschooling me. But why leave it in Phoenix? After all, I still needed _something_ to study on.

Isabella called out, "Decks!" from her booster chair next to my father.

"Gabriella," my father piped up, putting the cap on his pen and laying it on the paper. "Your mother and I discussed some options and we've decided to put you back into public school."

Before I could object, mom was already boasting about the public school. "This district is one of the top ones in the nation! Besides, I'm not sure how much longer I can assistant you now that you're progressing so quickly."

"Wait," I said with my fingers stretched out in front of me as though they were trying to physically get a grip on the situation as well. "You want me to go back to public school because I'm doing so _well_ with homeschooling?"

"Gabriella, the teachers have excellent ratings, the extra-curricular activities are nearly endless, there is so much more opportunity for you in this public school than I could give you at home. Besides, it's not just for your education and opportunities. I want to go back to work."

"Then let me study alone! I can watch Isabella!"

"Absolutely not. We will not leave a fifteen year old home alone with a three year old during the whole work day."

"I'd just be studying and watching her," I whined, "don't you trust me?"

Dad said, "Of course we trust you, Gabriella. This isn't an issue of trust."

"Then I don't understand why I can't stay at home and study online. I don't have to be with other people to learn."

"Well, that's another thing. We think there are many great social benefits that come with attending a public high school. We admire your independence, but you still need to have friends."

I quipped back, "Homeschooling doesn't prevent me from making friends, but shipping us off every other month sure does."

Mom spoke up, "We don't have time to argue about this. Your placement tests are in half an hour. Finish your breakfast."

"I can't eat anymore." I stood from my seat and rushed through the box-lined den and foyer, up the stairs, and into my room. What do I do? Should I flunk their tests? Would that somehow show in my record? Should I escape out the window, descend the balcony, and catch the next flight back to Minnesota? A girl can dream.

…

The brick building had an overwhelmingly dusty grey hue, but there was red and white text centered above the doors spelling _East High School._ A fountain stood in the middle of a concrete walkway whose slabs reached from the street to the row of doors. Positioned directly above them was a massive clock overlooking the courtyard from the third story. I hesitated approaching the intimidating structure, but mom locked her arm in mine and wouldn't leave me behind.

We glanced around the entrance to the locker-lined hallways and staircases, unsure of where to go. "There," my mother pointed to a support pillar with a sign directing us to the main office. She set off down the proper hallway, but I let the gap between us steadily grow as I lazily let my feet drag. I sheepishly glanced at the lockers to the right of me, intimidated by them somehow. They were new to me, something I'd only seen in the movies. I didn't have a locker in my room, but this was High School. This wasn't home. "Pick up your feet, Gabriella!" She demanded, irritated by the admittedly annoying squeaks of my sneakers dragging across the tile floor.

Inside the office, the counselor greeted us with a pile of paperwork for mom to fill out. I sat deep in my chair next to her at the man's desk, gazing ahead at some fidget toys atop the dark wood.

"Okay," the man said, taking the paperwork back and lining up its edges in a neat pile. "Gabriella, if you could please follow me down the hallway," he stood and crossed from behind his desk. "The test usually takes about two hours to complete, Mrs. Montez."

She nodded and I followed the man into a small, quiet room with only a table and a chair. He felt the need to read the written directions to me and encouraged me to answer every question, as though I wouldn't know to do that already. I finished their test ten minutes short of an hour.

After my test, mom took me on a quick shopping trip to the local office store for the supplies we didn't have already. By then it was lunchtime, so she pulled into a diner with a neon marquee that had _Ringo's Chicken n' Waffles_ written in sun-faded turquoise paint. We entered the diner and stood in awe at the 50's décor, jukeboxes and arcade games, and waitresses on skates. Just when one rolled over with three large plates balanced precariously on her forearms, dad walked in behind us with a fussy Isabella flailing around in his arms.

"Hiya, honey!" He led us to a booth with bright red seating and set Isabella on mom's side before sliding in next to me.

I mimicked a silent, ugly cry at Isabella from across the table until she giggled, saying "Gabby silly!"

Once we were ordered and I told them about the test, the waitress quickly returned with our baskets of food. She said, "Let me know if y'all need anything else." She kicked off the floor and skated away.

Dad asked me, "What do you think of the food?" I glanced down at Pinterest wet dream in front of me. The layers of fluffy pancakes elevated a bountiful serving of deep fried chicken strips as a drizzle of sticky maple syrup cascaded over all of it.

"Good," I responded quickly before having to swallow from all my salivating.

"Bet it tastes even better." He winked.

We were all silent the few ten minutes into our meal, just the sound of forks and knives scraping the plates as we filled our empty bellies. I was the first to slow down, not much needing to get me full. Bored, I began dipping my fork in my syrup and slowly lifting it up, studying the strands of syrup as they stretched.

Mom asked, "You're done already?"

"Yeah. It's a heavy meal and I'm not that hungry."

"Alright," she said, glancing over at my father across from us who was still inhaling his food. I smiled at the interaction; dad has always been the oblivious one, but mom tries to control each one of my hairs that are out of place. I wouldn't trade them for the world, even if they don't always do what's best for me.

…

While my mom washed and cut the veggies for our dinner salad and Isabella made a mess drawing at the kitchen table, I helped my dad cook the salmon outside. We both sat on the bench inside the screened porch while the grill warmed. He had a ball cap low on over his eyes as he relaxed in the darkening evening. I sat with my legs curled up underneath me, engulfed in the last book of a trilogy I started yesterday.

Dad's voice was soft and tired when he asked, "You think you'll use this porch?"

Confused, I asked, "Aren't we using it now?"

"I mean for reading."

"I guess." I shrugged, gently nudging my bookmark into the crevasse of the book's bindings and closing it over my lap. "I don't exactly have any other option."

"It'll get pretty hot out here in the summer, and most of the year for that matter. You'll need a reading nook inside, too."

"I didn't need a nook in Minnesota."

"Don't do that." My throat tightened. What had I done wrong?

"Don't do what?"

"You can't hold every new experience up to Minnesota. It's not fair to the present to immediately compare it to the best you've had before. If you only wait for the next best thing to appreciate anything, countless good, but smaller things will go by unnoticed." It's incredible how my dad is most wise and helpful when he's too exhausted to sugarcoat things.

…

Dinner was good, but the glutton that I am strongly preferred our lunch at the waffle house. After helping put the few dishes away and reading Isabella to sleep, I rushed upstairs to my bedroom to continue reading my book. In bizarrely perfect timing, I heard my mom's footsteps approach the door as I skimmed the last few lines of the novel.

"Gabriella?" She slowly pushed my door open on its squeaky hinges.

"Yeah, mom?"

"What are you doing still reading? You should go to sleep." She passed through the doorway and I saw that she had a box marked _GABRIELLA: CLOTHES_ on her hip. "You have your first day tomorrow."

"Not if I'm sick." I coughed.

"Now wouldn't that be too convenient to believe?" She set the box down next to my bed and pivoting to sit by my feet. "Honey, I hope that you give tomorrow a chance before deciding that it isn't for you. I'm not going to lie to you, public high school can be an uncomfortable experience, but we wouldn't be putting you in it if we thought you couldn't handle it."

"I know."

"Get some sleep." She gave my feet one farewell pat before departing.

As I lied in bed and stared ahead at that glow-in-the-dark stars I had stuck on the ceiling, I wondered how my parents could be so sure. I mean, how could they know without a doubt that putting me in public school would be what's best for me? Aren't _I_ the one to decide my limits, to know what I can or cannot endure? I've heard growth begins outside one's comfort zone, but it wasn't only my comfort being tested. My intuition warned me that this wasn't going to be a gentle nudge into the unknown, and that the result wouldn't be growth or maturity. Rather, whatever sinister thing lurking in that school would demolish me beyond repair. To my core, I knew that this high school wasn't the right decision. Whether I was prepared to face it or not, there was nothing I could do to change my parents' mind.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do you think Gabriella is right to be irritated at her parents for moving so much? Do you think she'll be correct about the new high school testing her limits? Please leave your thoughts in a review. Thanks again!**


	2. New Girl

**A/N: Thank you so much for the reviews on the first chapter! I hope you all enjoy this one, too.**

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **2\. New Girl**

 _January 8th, 2018 (Monday)_

When mom's voice rang out from the other side of my bedroom door this morning, the reality of my situation sunk in like an anchor dropping on my chest. She pounded on the door and yelled my name until I could finally choke out, "I'm up!"

The hairs on the back of my neck and arms stood at their ends as if my nerves were being shocked into action. I rushed over to the boxes outside my closet and ripped off the transparent packing tape connecting the cardboard flaps. I pulled out clothes by the armful and sprawled them out on the floor. I paced the room and considered each outfit, knowing my appearance would make the crucial first impression. I thought my favorite baseball shirt and denim shorts would be too tomboyish. Any dress or skirt would be too flirty, or even worse, ditzy. After ten minutes of consideration and accepting that nothing I owned could make the perfect statement, I settled on a pair of blue jeans, a silky white blouse, and a dark green cardigan with a butterfly embroidered on the breast pocket.

Mom called up to me, "Come get breakfast!" I followed her orders and plopped into the chair between dad and Isabella. She asked, "How many pancakes would you like?"

"Just one."

"I'll give you extra fruit if that's the case."

"No thanks."

Dad glanced up from his newspaper in its predictable spot on the table and asked, "Are you feeling okay?"

Mom answered for me, "It's just her nerves. That's usual for a first day. She still has to go."

I defensively said, "I wasn't asking to stay home. Dad just asked if I was feeling okay."

Isabella interrupted proclaiming, "Pan-cake!"

Dad reassured me, "It's going to be alright. You'll make plenty of friends. Just be yourself and they'll find you soon enough."

I groaned, "Sure."

…

It was the same route we'd taken the Friday before, where slabs of concrete lined the asphalt roads and a few green trees were placed intermittently along the sidewalk. I leaned my head against the window and peered out at the blur of buildings and barren shrubbery zooming by. A little ache had been persisting since the morning in the pit of my stomach. Just when I thought my nerves had reached a plateau, the building and hoards of students entering sight cut even deeper into my gut, incapacitating me. The painful cramps twisted at my insides and the air caught in my throat at the pain, "Mom," I said breathlessly.

"Yes?" She asked.

"I- I can't. My stomach." I clenched in my seat. "It hurts."

"Gabriella, it's normal to feel nervous. You'll be alright, dear."

"No, mom, I mean it. It really hurts."

"I'm sure it's uncomfortable, but you still have to go to school."

I unlatched my seatbelt and opened the door, taking one last worried glance back at my mom.

"It'll be okay, Gabriella."

I grasped the door and headrest to hoist myself up, my stomach pains forcing me to move slowly. I closed the door and locked eyes with the massive clock overlooking the courtyard. I began my trek up to the front doors, merging with the flow of hundreds of other students entering. The fear that even one of them would notice me made me self-conscious about my gait and posture, and attempting to appear more relaxed just made me tense up worse. I went down the proper hallway to the office mom and I had visited before for my tests and introduced myself to the receptionist. She gave me my schedule and vague, unhelpful instructions on where to find the classrooms before rushing me out the door. Then I was back with the masses again, maneuvering amongst the countless other bodies in the hallways.

My first teacher, a heavyset woman by the name Mrs. Darbus, spent the entirety of homeroom attempting to recruit actors for the school play. After another claustrophobic journey through the hallway, I found my first class. Most of the students were gathered around the desks, but I noticed a few jocks in the far corner of the lab playing a mock game of basketball with a crumpled up piece of paper and a garbage bin. I watched their quick lunges and blocking attempts, anticipating when one would shoot and the others would guard. When one caught me looking, I quickly averted my gaze as if I had been intruding and found a table.

A gangly man covered in an oversized tie-dye lab coat entered the room accompanied by a peppy student assistant trailing closely behind. His buggy brown eyes, magnified by the thick lenses in his circular glasses, peered over the students in front of him. "My name is Mr. Brannigan," his soft voice grasped. "Excuse me, gentlemen!" After four long strides across the room, he was face-to-face with the group of jocks. "There is a time and a place for sports, and that is not in the lab."

"Sorry," one of the jocks murmured while taking the garbage can/hoop off the table. "It won't happen again."

"It better not," he warned before approaching the blackboard at the front of the room. Two of the jocks had taken seats in the back, but the one who had caught me watching them took the last empty seat next to me. "Now that I have your attention, we will be starting the fifth chapter today. Turn your books to page one hundred and thirty-two."

I quietly said, "Excuse me. I don't have a book."

"I don't have anymore books. Look off of your neighbor's."

Situated to my left was a very standoffish girl who didn't flinch to Mr. Brannigan's suggestion. On my right, the jock kindly slid his massive biology textbook atop the table towards me. "Thanks," I said quietly.

"Sure."

As Mr. Brannigan's voice droned on monotonously for the remainder of the class, I peered around the room to observe my classmates, noticing how their heads lied on tables attached to limp bodies dangling from their chairs. It appeared to be quite a difficult feat for many of my peers to keep their eyelids open. Just next to me, the jock's head kept sporadically bobbing as he fell in and out of consciousness. When I realized that the majority of people were either asleep or too occupied by the lecture to notice me, my nerves finally subsided.

"That'll be it for today," Mr. Brannigan said, slamming his book shut to emit a loud bang that jolted everyone awake, and stirred the bundle of nerves in my gut awake. "Homework for tonight is page one hundred and fifty, all problems." The jock snatched the book back to circle the number at the bottom of the page.

"Did you still need to see it?" He asked, nudging the opened textbook back towards me. My eyes latched onto the collar of his white T-shirt that lied beneath a thick red and white varsity jacket. When I finally looked him in the eyes I noticed they were mainly blue, but a hint of yellow was visible just around his pupils, much like the feathers on my blue bird teacup. And they were just as beautiful. "No?" He asked suddenly.

"What?" I felt a heat rise to my cheeks.

"Did you still need to see the book?"

"No," I dismissed him and he stood to leave, his blue jeans slightly worn in the knees with small splotches of mud around the ankles. I slowly gathered my belongings and gently pulled my backpack strap around my shoulder to lift the heavy load. The distance between the stranger and I was steadily growing when I realized that I would indeed need to borrow his textbook to complete the homework.

Just as I left my spot in pursuit of the guy, a voice yelled out from across the room. I turned around to Mr. Brannigan staring at me expectantly. He said, "I believe the Science department has run out of Biology textbooks. You'll have to take scans of someone else's. Did you set something up with your table partner?"

"Well, I..." I glanced behind me, but no one else remained in the classroom with us. "No."

"You need to keep up with this," he urged. "We typically don't let sophomores into senior biology, but we made an exception due to your test scores. This is a tough course. You in particular need to prove that you belong here. It's going to be an impossible situation for you if you fall behind. Do you think you can handle this course?"

"Yes."

"Are you sure?"

I forced the word out against my constricting throat, "Yes."

"Alright, _show_ me that. Make sure you have your homework completed by class time tomorrow."

I nodded and forced my tense muscles to remove myself from the room. Once immersed in the overcrowded hallway, disorientation and confusion overcame me. I didn't know where I was and I had no idea where I was supposed to go. I stuck my clammy hand into my jean pocket and retrieved my schedule. I opened the folded sheet of paper and began scanning for the correct period and room number when a sudden hit to my body buckled my knees and left me face down on the ground. I scrambled to get my feet back underneath me and fled into the nearest restroom.

I flung myself into the first stall. I dropped my backpack onto the ground and leaned my hot body against the cool metal door. My breathing became increasingly erratic as my lungs resisted all my efforts to let in a deep breath. A tingling sensation overcame my head and hands as the likelihood of passing out exacerbated my panic.

"Are you okay?" A voice spoke and I let in a short gasp in surprise. Although my arms still appeared pinkish underneath the thin layer of sweat glazing my body, my breathing normalized from the startle.

"I'm fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, thank you."

When I heard the door close behind her, I leaned my back against the stall wall and massaged my damp neck with my steady hands, kneading my fingernails into the flesh. It was all I could do to keep myself from screaming out in frustration. Why can't I handle this? Why is the simplest thing so impossible to me? It's _just_ high school, right? I'm afraid to talk, I'm afraid to move, I'm afraid to even breathe wrong. Nothing could please the scrutinizing voices in my head.

I winced when the tardy bell reminded me that I belonged somewhere else.

…

"Hiya, sweetie!" Dad yelled from somewhere in the house, his hands full of unpacked artifacts or picture frames, I imagined.

"Hi." I dropped my three-ton heavy backpack onto the tile floor of the foyer.

"How was your first day?" He yelled back.

I sighed and carried my fatigued body up the stairs one step at a time.

"Gabriella?" My mother appeared at the bottom of the stairs, sporting a drooping ponytail and button-up flannel shirt, the usual unpacking attire.

"What, mom?" I whined, annoyed.

"Your father asked how your day was," she said sternly, a closed fist nudged into her hip.

"Can we talk about it later? I'm exhausted." It wasn't a lie to get out of talking to them about it, although I also didn't want to talk to them. I felt all my energy dissipate after that taxing episode in the restroom. The pain in my gut had retired, but a fog of fatigue clouded my mind. I was yawning through the rest of my classes, unable to focus on anything the teachers were saying. The only thing that kept me from passing out on the bus ride home was how loud the other students were.

"You do look tired," she noticed. She crossed her arms over her chest and squinted her brown eyes in consideration before agreeing, "Get some rest and we'll talk later."

"Thanks." I went to my room, fell onto my bed, and shut my eyes, naively assuming that sleep would easily come to me. I tossed and turned, entangling myself in the sheets for hours. I tried to imagine that the ceiling fan blowing air onto me was a cool breeze wafting over my body as I stood at the end of the dock in Minnesota. My toes curled over the edge of the last board, the wooden fibers rough against my smooth, young skin. I gazed out across the surface of the lake - so still that the night sky reflected in it perfectly like a mirror. It was indecipherable where the lake ended and the actual night sky began. For all I knew, I was standing on a wooden dock suspended in the middle of space as countless stars float all around me. Just when I thought I'd finally slip into a sweet slumber, I remembered that I'd have to do this all over again tomorrow. And the day after that. And the day after that.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do you think Gabriella experienced a normal amount of anxiety for her first day? Did today's events confirm her belief that this school would break her? I'd love to know your thoughts.**


	3. Deception

...

Where Courage Ignites

 **3\. Deception**

 _January 9th, 2018_

When mom's forceful voice carried all the way from the bottom of the stairs to my room to wake me, it felt as though I had only slept for twenty minutes. My eyes were painfully dry and my energy was drained even more than the evening before. I called back, "I'm up!" I tried my hardest to ignore the buzz of anxiety in my heart as I proceeded to dress myself, but it was futile. The bundle of nerves painfully twisted and churned at my gut with an unrelenting ferocity. I paused for a moment to lie on my bed and hold my knees into my chest in an attempt to relieve at least some of the pain.

"Gabriella?" My mother said, her voice now on the other side of my door. "Breakfast is ready."

"Mom," I groaned in pain.

"Gabriella?" The door opened and she came to sit down at the end of my bed. "Gabriella," she sighed, "I know this is a big change, but you can't give up already."

"It's my stomach, mom."

"Whatever it is, you need to keep going to school," she said, gently placing her hand on my arm.

I didn't consider arguing, knowing it'd be pointless trying to persuade her to let me stay home. Instead, I pushed myself to sit up on the bed next to her and said, "Okay." I slowly dragged my legs out from underneath me and onto the floor below.

"That's my girl."

…

When Mrs. Darbus used homeroom to deliver an unsolicited lecture on the importance of drama as an extracurricular activity, I inferred from the low buzz of small talk throughout the room that many of my disinterested peers were well accustomed to ignoring these lectures. I, without anyone to talk to, remained silent as my thoughts kept circling back to my uncompleted biology homework.

The moment the bell rang, I sprang from my seat and out the door. I speed-walked the entire length to the classroom, my aching calves protesting every step of the way. I rushed inside the room and spotted the guy from yesterday across the room. He was in the lab area again, leaning against a counter, talking leisurely with another student. I quickly weaved between the tables and chairs in the way to him and asked, "Can I borrow your textbook again?"

"Hey," he responded, not having registering neither my request nor its urgency.

"Can I borrow your textbook?"

He nodded, reached into the black backpack on the metal stool next to him, and exposed the hefty Biology book. I took the book from him and placed it on the counter on the other side of them. I quickly tossed my backpack up on the counter and dove in to find my notebook and a pen. I opened the textbook up to the proper page and pushed his loose notebook pages to the side. "Um," a voice began, but I suppressed my instinct to glance up and instead kept my eyes jumping back and forth between the problems and my paper. "I don't think you can finish that in time. It took me like fifty minutes last night."

The other guy said, "Yeah, it took me at least an hour."

I dryly rebutted, "I will if I could concentrate."

I heard them quietly snicker and resume their conversation, but their words quickly faded to white noise as I focused on the homework. After the first few problems, I caught onto their pattern and did the majority in my head, only needing to print the last few steps and their answers. I was so intently focused on finishing the last problems that I didn't notice when the guy started talking to me again.

"We have to sit down," he said to me, his friend no longer with us. "He's coming in."

"Okay, I'm almost done."

He pulled the straps of his backpack over his muscular shoulders and slowly began dragging the textbook away from me. "Okay," I said, messily scribbling the last numbers down. "Thank you." We both spun around in unison only to be met by Mr. Brannigan with his arms crossed over his chest and a spiteful glare in his eyes.

He loudly accused us, "Are you sharing answers?" Everyone turned in their seats and directed their curious eyes on us.

I yelped, "No!"

The guy said, "Absolutely not. She was just borrowing my textbook."

Mr. Brannigan spat, "There's no way you finished last night's assignment within passing period. Give me your homework." I forced my shaking hands to open the notebook and present it to him. Mr. Brannigan snatched the notebook and averted his suspicious eyes to the guy. "And yours," he ordered.

He obliged and we watched on helplessly as Mr. Brannigan's quick eyes shot back and forth between our homework from beneath furrowed brows. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong, but that indisputable fact didn't matter to my nerves. I could feel my heart beat increasing and my stomach twisting over onto itself. I clenched my fists and jaw against the sensation of this familiar, unwavering pain in my abdomen.

"Well, they _are_ different," Mr. Brannigan finally said and I released a pent up breath of air I wasn't aware I had been holding. "I want to speak to you after class." He slammed our assignments on the counter and walked to the front of the class without another word.

The guy asked, "Both of us?"

"Not you, Troy." He looked back over his shoulder and locked his narrowed eyes with mine. "Just her."

It took a few moments to realize that the guy had found his seat at our table and that I was still standing unmoved in the lab. With my breathing shallow and heart sunken into my stomach, I slowly made my way back to my chair.

I was desperate for time to stop, preferring to live an eternity listening to his lecture than confront Mr. Brannigan upon its conclusion. But time marched on as it does, second by second. My stomach cramped even harder with each passing moment, as it does as well. My clammy hand was clenched onto the fabric of my shirt in front of my stomach as I tried to find a comfortable posture. I barely heard a quiet, pathetic whimper as it unknowingly escaped my lips. My hand instinctively shot up to cover my mouth.

Troy whispered, "Are you okay?"

I swallowed nervously, "What?"

He glanced at the front of the room and back to me, leaning closer to repeat himself. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," I lied, but that was much simpler than a rundown of all my problems.

Troy let his concerned eyes linger on me for a few moments longer before retiring them to the book again. I told myself not to read too far into it, that I wasn't special, that he's just a nice guy who would care for anyone like that.

Mr. Brannigan announced, "For homework tonight, complete all activities on page one-hundred and eighty-three." The sound of metal chair legs screeching along linoleum tile erupted across the room as everyone stood to leave. Mr. Brannigan remained stationed behind his desk at the front of the room. "Gabriella," he said, waving me over.

I pressed my sweaty palms flat against the table and carefully raised myself up. I considered the battle ahead as I traveled the dreaded path towards him. Mr. Brannigan, a reputable and respected educator, against me, the untrustworthy new student. My words alone wouldn't be enough against the influence his carried. Perhaps it would be easier to admit to cheating. Fighting would put me in the same position in the end, regardless that I was fighting for the truth. As I finally mustered the courage to look him in his fuming brown eyes, it appeared as though his mind was already made up. Nothing I could say would change his judgment. I decided then to take the quick route and confess to the plagiarizing I didn't commit. Tears were already blurring my vision when he began, "You're dismissed, Troy."

I turned around to see whom Mr. Brannigan was addressing and found the guy with the captivating blue eyes. "I know," he cleared his throat. "I just wanted to tell you that she wasn't cheating, Mr. Brannigan. Zeke and I saw her do it all by herself in passing period. He can tell you, too. She wasn't cheating, I swear."

Mr. Brannigan shifted his scrutinizing eyes back and forth from Troy to I in thought. Finally, he said, "You're a good student, Troy. I know you wouldn't risk any marks on your record. We both know your dad would be furious. You wouldn't do something that stupid, and if _you_ say she wasn't cheating, then I have reason to believe you."

"I promise this season on it."

"Alright, it's settled then." Mr. Brannigan zeroed in on me and leaned into my face as he said warningly, "You're very lucky that he could vouch for you. I don't want to have this discussion again. If I see any more suspicious behavior, I'll be quick to discipline. Do you understand?"

I felt myself shaking beneath his threatening words. I parted my lips to speak, but their quivering quickly overcame my speech. I sealed them shut and nodded my head. I spun around and rushed for the door, picking up my backpack as I passed by the table, and left. I couldn't feel relieved or grateful yet, as I was still shaking from the ordeal. I only made it a few feet out the door when I realized a voice was yelling, "Hey!" after me.

I abruptly spun around and saw someone's strong chest nearly run into my face.

"Sorry," he stepped back, the body being Troy. "What was your name?"

"Gabriella."

"Nice to meet you, I'm Troy." I stared at him, my mind drawing of blank of what I should say next. He was making me nervous, but the sensation in my stomach felt like the fluttering of delicate butterfly wings instead of the stabbing sensations I was getting accustomed to. "It was really impressive how fast you finished the homework before class." He smiled, an adorable gap barely bigger than normal between his two front teeth.

 _Thanks_ , I thought, but forgot to say aloud.

"Um, we should study together," he suggested. "You need to borrow my book anyways."

While I was concerned about Mr. Brannigan assuming the worst if he caught us studying together, I didn't have anyone else offering to be my book buddy. "Okay."

"Great! Put your number in my phone."

I quickly entered my digits and gave the phone back for him to send me his address. I murmured a quiet thank you before awkwardly fleeing from the interaction without any farewell.

…

The lunch bell resonated across the school in a loud, glass breaking tone. In response, everyone marched towards the cafeteria like Pavlov's Dogs obeying their call. I was herded through the hallway by this stampede of bodies, their powerful current futile to resist. Once in the courtyard, I froze in place and took in the sight. On the opposite side of the courtyard, past the countless round tables littered about, massive pillars reached stories high to the ceiling above. Intermittently placed in the gaps between pillars stood magnificent windows glowing red from the Wildcat banners hung in front of them. I observed the students carelessly fling their heavy backpacks on the chairs to save their spots before racing each other to the food court. Everyone appeared familiar with their respective group, chatting merrily and excitedly greeting one another. Then there was me. No friends to greet me, no spot to save, no place to belong. With my shoulders hunched over and my head hung low in a stance of defeat, I turned around to exit the courtyard. I was blocked by an Asian guy sporting a vibrant gold and blue beanie that pressed his shaggy, jet-black hair against his forehead. He stared directly into my eyes, and I diverted mine to his converse sneakers. "Excuse me," I murmured to the shoes, beginning to walk around him.

"Where do you think you're going?" He stepped over a tile to block me from fleeing.

"Th- the library," I stammered, my sweaty hands finding my backpack strap and constricting around them.

"Don't be a dork." I wondered if this was one of those bullies the movies warn you about. I sheepishly looked back up at him and found a little smirk on his lips. Could this be… _flirting_?

"Are you flirting with me?" I know, _so_ _smooth_.

He chuckled, "Sure, you're cute."

I felt a heat rise to my face, as I'm sure it blushed over. "Thank you." My nails reached further around my straps and into my palms, constricting along with my stomach.

He asked me, "Why aren't you eating lunch?"

"I don't have anyone to eat with."

"Just go up to a table," he scoffed. "God, what's so hard about that?"

"I-" My eyes scanned the busy scene around us to find an answer. I wanted to opt for the casual lie by saying I don't know, but I've never been that good of a liar. Although he didn't seem understanding or receptive to the truth, I said honestly, "That's easy for you to say when you've known these people your whole life. It's different when you're forever the new girl."

"Come with me," he reached around me to grab the handle on top of my book bag. With it, he pushed me through the tables until finally settling on one underneath the mascot on the wall.

"McKessie!" He addressed a girl sitting at the table whose eyes widened in surprise from the interruption. Her hands froze in their place, one on her yogurt, the other flipping through a textbook.

"Anthony?" The confused girl acknowledged him.

"My friend…" he paused, looking at me expectantly.

I said, "Umm, Gabriella."

"I caught little Gabriella on her way out of the cafeteria. She was heading to the library during lunch hour. It sounded like your kind of thing. So here," he pushed me forward by my backpack, "have a friend." I stumbled towards them, their confused eyes all directed at me. "She should fit right in. Play nicely!" He left.

I stood in front of their apprehensive eyes. I spotted a seat next to the girl, who I only knew by the name McKessie, occupied by just a book bag. "Can I sit there?" I asked.

"Yeah," She mumbled, quickly moving the rolling backpack to the floor and closing her textbook.

I settled down in the seat and said, "Thank you."

"Of course," she responded in a small, sheepish voice, similar to my own.

I sat silently pondering the bizarre guy I had just met. I was conflicted by his character. On one hand, he complimented me and found me a place to sit, but on the other, he kind of manhandled me through the courtyard. Perhaps it was just his sense of humor? Without anything to eat, I curiously looked over at the textbook McKessie had reopened. I asked her, "What are you studying?"

She jumped at the sound of my voice and responded, "I'm preparing for our upcoming scholastic decathlon."

"What's that?"

"It's where different schools in the area compile teams of the smartest students to represent their school in different scholastic competitions. It's mainly math or science problems, but there's also debate and history quizzes. It's pretty difficult."

"Can I see?"

She flipped through the book for a little while before settling on a page. "This is a titration calculation," she told me. "This district goes absolutely nuts over them. One was a tiebreaker last year."

"Is it alright if I try it?" I asked, twisting around in my seat to reach into my backpack and pull out a sheet of paper and a pen.

She raised an eyebrow before hesitantly agreeing, "I guess."

I got straight to work, immediately finding the sweet spot in my mind where numbers and calculations were abundant. After a couple minutes, I put my pen down and handed the sheet full of scribbled numbers to her.

"It _looks_ right," She returned the paper to me and flopped the heavy textbook onto its back and began searching for the answer. "I can't believe it!" She rejoiced, bringing the fat textbook up to her chest and embracing it with a squeeze. "Do you want to be on our team?"

"Taylor," I traced the voice back to a heavyset, curly haired girl across the table. "We can't just make room for another person. Our team is full."

Taylor quipped back, "Those rules aren't definitive and you know that."

"But just after one titration problem?" The freckles on her nose scrunched up as she sneered at me.

"Certainly we can have her do more."

She snapped, "Since we did have tryouts after districts?"

I could feel the animosity brewing. I wasn't here to cause conflict. I really only wanted a place to sit. I finally spoke for myself, "No, it's okay. I'm actually just trying to focus on my classes right now."

"Oh _please_ ," Taylor said in disbelief, "I can tell you're maxed out on classes and _still_ bored. What would it hurt? Besides, you'd be a great addition, and it looks good on college applications."

"I'll only do it if everyone wants me to," I decided.

"All in favor?" Taylor asked the group, and everyone at the table apart from the brunette raised their hands. "Martha?"

"It's not fair," Martha crossed her arms over her bust in a show of stubbornness.

I looked down at my nails and picked at imaginary dirt stuck in them as they continued to argue until the bell rang again.

…

After school was dismissed, I rushed out the doors with the hoards of other students anxiously waiting to be rejoined with the great outdoors. While others scurried to find their friends and race out of the parking lot, I was in search of a solitude area to read my book. I set off along a concrete trail to the left of the fountain in the direction of a bus pick up. Fearing I may get swept away by the crowd's current, I cut between a gap in the bushes and trotted along the wood chips laid down. I treaded along the back of the building where the sun disappeared. The air itself felt cooler between the downward slope of the land and the school.

After a few minutes of exploration, I happened upon an abandoned garden. Dead, shriveled leaves of the once boasting plants pathetically heaved over and remained flattened onto the clay ground. There was a single healthy tree, alive and well with its massive trunk and overhanging light green leaves. I slid my book bag off from around my shoulders and rested it against the trunk. I turned to lean my back against its trunk and slid down the rough bark to sit beneath the tree before removing the novel from my bag.

The protagonist was preparing to duel with an enchanted statue when I heard a shuffle from behind me. I called out, "Hello?"

There was no response.

I shook off the disturbance and continued reading when I heard it yet again a few minutes later. This time, I closed my book and stood up. I sheepishly began walking around the massive trunk, freezing when a pair of sneakers and blue jeans entered sight. I felt too awkward to turn back, so I kept walking around the tree. Although I couldn't see their face, I could identify the person by their blue and gold-stripped beanie.

"Anthony?"

He didn't hear me, but he kept bobbing his head rhythmically to a tune from his headphones. I approached and tapped him on the shoulder.

"Whoa!" He jumped, dropping the brownie he had been eating into his lap and looking up at me in fright. "Holy shit," he panted. "You nearly scared the shit out of me. What are you doing back here?"

I awkwardly glanced side to side. "Reading."

He laughed as though it had been a joke. "Reading?"

"Yes, what are you doing?"

"Hiding."

"Hiding from whom?"

"More like hiding for this," he raised the last bite of brownie up to me.

"Why would you need to hide to eat a brownie?"

"God," his spontaneous laughter sparked up in a second fit. "You're so innocent." He looked over at me mischievously. "Would you like to try some of my special brownie? There's a magical ingredient." He held it up to me and twisted it side to side to show it off.

I realized aloud, "That's a pot brownie."

"Damn it!" He huffed, throwing it into his mouth and swallowing the rest whole.

"Wait, would you have let me unknowingly eat a pot brownie?"

"Doesn't matter," he jumped to his feet and wiped his hands off on his jeans. "You figured it out."

He sauntered over to one of the skeletons of a bush and picked up a backpack and a skateboard from behind it. "See you around." He passed by the rest of the decrepit garden on his exit and yelled behind him in a nasally voice, "Enjoy your _reading_!" I heard one last mocking snort before his footsteps finally gave way to the quiet, which was quickly interrupted again by a buzz in my pocket. I checked the text on my phone:

 ** _Mom_** _: I'm out front._

I carefully placed my book in my bag, positioning it safely between two notebooks, and went back the way I came to the front of the school. I easily spotted my mom's rusting minivan in the short lineup of cars. I tossed the passenger door open and heard a squeal coming from the backseat, cooing, "Gabby!"

"Is that my Isabella?" I looked into the back to find her in her car seat with a joyous smile, happily lifting her small teddy bear to show me the purple stuffed animal.

In my baby voice, I asked, "Who's that?"

"Is Maya!" She responded, stroking the bear's head lovingly before adjusting the pink bowtie around its neck.

"Is Maya your best friend?"

"Gabby my best friend!" She responded, her big brown eyes shooting up to mine as she excitedly extended her arms out to me.

"I love you!" I reached back to grab one of her small, soft hands.

"I love you, too," she murmured before redirecting her attention back to her bear Maya.

My mom glanced away from the road to me, "You're so good with her, Gabriella," she praised. "How was school?"

"It was okay." I smiled. "No, it was great! I met a lot of people."

"That's wonderful! Your dad is working late today, if you couldn't tell." Her eyes glanced up in the rearview mirror to look at Isabella.

"Okay, I was actually going to go over to someone else's house to study." I quickly explained, "We have to borrow the same book."

She asked skeptically, "At _their_ house?"

"Or…a coffee shop?"

"I don't know, Gabriella. I haven't met their parents yet. Is it a boy?"

I lied, "No."

"Can't you study at our home?"

"I don't want to inconvenience her," I said, surprised by my own quick thinking. I braced myself for whatever else I'd need to cover up.

"Fine, but I want to meet them."

"I'll try." _Third lie_ , I counted.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do you think Gabriella will get busted? And what did you think of all the other people she met today? Let me know your thoughts in a review!**


	4. Caught

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **4\. Caught**

I clutched my phone tight to my chest as I stood at the window, waiting for Troy's car to roll into our driveway. I already had my book bag secured over my shoulders so I could sprint from the house. A green sedan was slowly approaching and I felt my heart rate quicken, but I recognized the driver to be an elderly neighbor as he passed by. Behind the sedan, a sky blue pickup truck nearly passed by the driveway before making a wide turn up to my house. I felt frozen in place, a small smile tickling at my lips. This is actually happening. What exactly it was that was happening, I didn't know. The possibilities were endless.

My pocket vibrated and I read the message from his number: _Here._ I reminded my legs that they needed to move us and off we went. I opened the door and pushed my backpack onto the floor of the vehicle. "Hey! Sorry for the mess," he said in regards to the jacket and basketball on the seat.

"It's alright!" I heard my voice slightly shaking.

He folded his jacket before gently placing it on the backseat, then carelessly tossed the ball over his shoulder into the back.

I pulled my body up into the truck and quickly shut the door and fastened my seatbelt. "To Calvin's Coffee?"

"Yeah, do you have everything?"

"Yes," I rushed, anxious to leave. "We should probably get going. My parents want me home in time for dinner."

"Sure! Mine too probably. That's a good point."

He kicked the vehicle into reverse and just when I thought we were in the clear, my dad's face appeared at Troy's window.

Dad asked, "So, what's going on here? What's the deal-e-o with you two?" I wanted to fall through the earth just to be gone from the interaction.

"We're going to a coffee shop to study," he said and I mentally let out a sigh of relief. Certainly we had to be over the most awkward of it.

Nope.

Dad asked, "Not trying to date my daughter, are you?" All the air rushed from my lungs like I had been punched in the stomach.

"No, sir."

"I'm only embarrassing Gabriella." Dad smiled cheekily and I cringed deeper into the passenger seat. "I'm her father, after all. What else would I do?" He tapped Troy's car door twice and said, "Looks like my job is done. Have fun you kids, but not too much!" He pointed warningly at Troy before chuckling to himself, "I'm only joking." He went into the garage.

"So that was your dad?" Troy asked as he pulled out into the road.

"Yeah, I'm sorry. He likes making things awkward."

"It's okay, I've been through worse. Like those awkward middle school years, you know?"

"Yeah, totally!" I actually didn't because I was homeschooled. "I actually don't because I was homeschooled."

"Oh man, I wish I had been homeschooled during that. Just hide me away from everyone until puberty passes."

I laughed, "It couldn't have been that bad."

"I don't know. Maybe it wasn't. Sometimes I just overthink things. Make things out to be worse than it is, or was." Troy said.

"I understand," I stated simply.

Troy rested his vivid blue eyes on me, an empathetic smile playing on his lips. It felt so real for a situation so entirely unbelievable. Troy seemed perfect. Yet somehow, here we were talking about overthinking, something I thought only people like me did.

I was surprised when he had already put the pickup truck in park at the front of the little café. I opened the door and crawled down to the asphalt below where I flung my bag over my shoulder. I glanced up at the café I would soon be entering, judging the cloudy windows and swooping overhang.

"You enter here," Troy said, smiling at me from the entryway with the door held open behind him.

"Thank you," I said, apprehensively entering the café. My eyes widened in surprise at the sight. The counter appeared to be a massive bar made out of a single slab of dark, glossy wood. Stainless steel barstools and chairs riddled across the concrete floor, and a mirror ceiling was above the entire café. It was a surprisingly stylish sight compared to its deceptively plain exterior. "Wow," I said in awe, gazing at the overflowing bookshelf.

"Wasn't expecting this, were you?" Troy said proudly, coming to stand by my side at the counter.

"Not at all." I smiled.

"I had the same experience my first time in here."

"I guess this is a lesson in judging book by its cover."

"Exactly, you should only judge a coffee shop by the quality of its coffee. I'm telling you, Gabby, Calvin's has the best in Albuquerque."

The ginger haired, fully bearded barista asked, "What can I get for your folks?"

"Coffee, black."

I ordered a hot chocolate. When the barista turned to start on our drinks, I asked Troy, "Are you a big coffee drinker?"

"Oh yeah, my dad and I share a pot every morning."

"Wow. That's a lot."

Troy chuckled, "Yeah, doesn't feel like it anymore."

The barista sat the drinks down on the counter with a soft clank, "Here you go. It'll be six, eighty-two."

I said, "They're separate."

Troy insisted, "Together." He raised his credit card to the man. "I got it."

"Thank you, but you don't have to."

"Consider it my thanks in advance for answering the many questions I'll have on tonight's homework."

"Deal," I smiled, snaking my fingers through the handle of the mug and raising it to my mouth to blow on it.

"You absolutely must show me how to do the homework so fast. It's been taking me forever! I have to see how you do it."

"I'll help you through it, but we have to be careful given Mr. Brannigan's suspicions."

"You're right. I'll leave a few wrong on purpose," he smirked. "How does that sound?"

"Perfect!" I laughed.

The barista returned Troy's card to him and we set up in the back of the café where the last uninhabited table awaited us. He gently placed his mug on the metal surface and lowered his backpack onto a neighboring chair while I mirrored his actions.

I asked, "Do you mind if I work alone for a little? I work best when I'm in my own little bubble, you know?"

"Yeah, that's fine." A few minutes of calculations and scribbles passed before he suddenly asked, "How are you doing these?" It took me a moment to exit _The Zone_ and address him. I glanced over at his work and saw that he had only started, yet abandoned the first five problems.

I flipped a couple pages back in the book. "Here, try this one," I pointed him to a step-by-step exercise and leaned back in my chair as he started on it. I strained my head side to side to crack my neck when my eyes just so happened to spot an interesting character. A man in tight black shorts entered the coffee shop with his bicycle in hand. He leaned the bike against the large bar and casually strolled over to the front where the barista stood idly by. I watched on as he placed his order and simply took in his presence. His blond hair was chunked together in dreadlocks reaching just past his shoulders in length. When he crossed one foot over the other I noticed the nearly black color of the bottom of his bare foot.

I spoke quietly to Troy. "That man over there," I nodded towards the gentleman. "What do you think his life story is?"

Troy looked at me curiously. He parroted, "What do I think his life story is?"

"Yeah."

"I'm not sure." He chuckled. "Do you do this with everyone you meet?"

I shrugged. "If they interest me."

"Oh really?" A little smile appeared on his lips. "Did you come up with a backstory for me?"

"I don't believe I did, but I'm sure I could come up with something if you want."

"Please!" His face lit up. "I'll let you know if you're right or not."

"Alright." I leaned back in my chair, looking Troy up and down as though I could read through his appearance to his past. "You've lived in Albuquerque your whole life."

"Correct."

"Your favorite sport is basketball."

"Also correct."

"You value your friendships more than anything else."

"Are you sure we don't know each other from a past life or something?"

I laughed, "Do me."

He readjusted his chair to face me better and began, "You're a new girl."

"Right so far," I confirmed.

"You love…" His lost eyes scanned me hopelessly, "Cats?"

"Um," I glanced side to side. "I've never owned a cat."

Troy laughed. "Let me try again. You…" he looked at me intently, his eyes beautiful blue eyes bouncing from one area of my face to the next before settling on my lips, "You like hot chocolate."

"I do like hot chocolate. How could you possibly have known that?" I teased, raising my drink to my lips and sipping my hot chocolate.

"Lucky guess."

I giggled, we sat for a moment simply smiling at each other before I shied my eyes back to the book. "We should probably get back to work on these."

Another forty laborious minutes passed before we could finally close the book and lean back in accomplishment.

"Christ," he sighed heavily, his shoulders slouching forward in defeat. "This class is so wild. I can't believe he expects us to learn all this. Did your parents or whoever already teach you these things?"

"My mom did. She helped me learn all this before I started at East High. Without her, I wouldn't be able to get into Biology so early."

"You mean you're not a senior?"

"No, I'm only fifteen," I admitted.

"And you're in senior honors biology!" He exclaimed, appearing impressed. "Does that make you a genius?"

"No," I shook my head as I blushed. "I don't believe so."

"Well, you're a genius in my book."

"Thank you, Troy," I giggled.

"But, while you may have all this school stuff figured out, I can shoot baskets around you all day. There's no way you could score on me."

I narrowed my eyes at him and crossed my arms over my chest. "What makes you so confident?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You think you could?"

"I _know_ I could, Bolton."

He laughed. "Game on!" He got all his supplies back into his backpack with one swoop across the table. I hurried to gather my things and caught up with him at the truck. He tossed me the aux cord after we were both in and said, "No pressure, but I may or may not judge you based on your taste in music."

I jokingly scoffed, "I'm not concerned. I only listen to the best." I rushed to find perfect song, but suddenly my library appeared full of trash.

"Let's hear it!"

I forced myself to just click one, selecting _Machu Picchu_ by The Strokes. The opening note climbed to a crescendo before giving way to the first rift. The rumble of the bass vibrated my seat and the lead singer's voice drawled out the opening line. I slowly moved my eyes over to Troy slow enough that he wouldn't notice me gauging his reaction. He had his eyes narrowed and his eyebrows low with his lips slightly parting, appearing almost confused by the noises coming out of his radio. I pulled my phone out of the cup holder by the aux cord and said, "Let me pick another."

"Wait." He rested his hand over mine to stop me. I looked over to him as his head slowly started nodding to the beat. He put his hand back on the steering wheel and sent me a big smile. "I approve."

"You like it?"

"I do! It's kick ass, but also chill."

"If you like this sound, I can make you a playlist. I'll put it on a flash drive or something."

"Please, that'd be wonderful! I need some new tune recommendations."

He parked on the street in front of a captivating modern house with massive windows and a metal sculpture in the lawn. Without taking my eyes off the breathtaking building, I blindly pulled my bag up to my lap and asked, " _This_ is your house?"

"Wasn't expecting this from the son of the gym teacher, were you?" Troy jumped down from the truck and came to my side to help me down.

"Not in the slightest." I took his hand and crawled onto the rich green lawn. "So what's the story? Big lottery win?"

"Keep guessing. I'll let you know when you get there."

As we walked towards the driveway, I guessed, "Won a lawsuit?"

"No." He dropped onto his hands and knees and partially crawled underneath the deck on the side of the house.

"Got lucky with investments?"

His voice echoed from beneath the concrete deck, "No." He tossed a basketball behind him and it rolled to my feet.

"Invented something?" I captured the ball beneath my foot.

He wiped the dirt from his hands onto his jeans and said, "No."

"Business owner?"

"Not quite." He bent down and picked up the basketball from the ground, and then spun it on the tip of his finger.

"Not _quite_? Business… _manager_? Oh! CEO!"

"My mom, yes." He took a shot for the basketball hoop far on the other side of the driveway and it swished. "My point." We took turns doing some practice shots before he annihilated me for a couple rounds of horse. Next, we entered an intense game of one-on-one. New Girl vs. Team Captain. He expertly blocked my shots and weaved around me to land his, reminding me of the score with each point he made. Once the sun hid behind the house and put us in a shadow, he asked, "Should we call it game?"

With sweat dripping down my forehead, I panted, "Next point wins."

"Deal." I reached my hand out for him to shake, but when he did I knocked the ball out of his grasp. Before he realized he was no longer in possession, I lined up my shot and scored.

He shook his head. "You play dirty."

I smiled. "Hey, good game."

"You too."

…

Troy turned the pickup truck into my driveway and parked it before the engine slowly coughed until it silenced. "Same time tomorrow?" He asked.

"Yeah, that sounds good," I said.

"Have a good night."

I opened the door and crawled down the side of the massive truck and pulled my backpack out. I closed the door and began my trek up to my house. I glanced behind me when I heard the roar of his engine starting up again, taking in the sight of the vehicle one last time.

I pushed the door open and what awaited me immediately dropped the smile off my face. My mother stood with her arms crossed around her chest and a suspicious eyebrow arched. "Who was he?"

"Just…Troy," I answered.

" _Just_ Troy?" My father spoke up, walking out from behind my mom and standing next to her, crossing his arms similarly.

"I - " I sighed exasperatedly, "We were just studying! I told you!"

"Lower your voice," mom slowly ordered.

My dad vouched for me, "They did tell me before they left that they were studying." He's always the first to fold, but I knew it'd take more to convince my mother.

"I asked you before whether you were meeting with a boy or a girl and you said _girl_ ," she growled. "Then I requested to meet this student and you purposely hid him from me. You've both lied to me and gone behind my back today. You are grounded! No computer and no cellphone for the rest of the night. Do you understand?"

"Mm hmm."

"Yes?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "We made plans to study together again tomorrow, can I go to that?"

"I'm inclined to say no given your attitude this evening."

"My attitude doesn't change the fact that he and I are sharing a book," I couldn't help but smile since she couldn't argue with that. "One that I need in order to do my homework."

My father nodded along understandingly. "She needs to borrow his book," he repeated to my mom.

My mom quipped back to me, "Invite him over and study here. There's nothing wrong with our dining room table."

"There's nothing wrong with our dining room table, honey," my father said to me decidedly.

I said, "Pick a side, dad."

He raised his hands defensively in response. "I'm done with this. I agree with whatever mom says." He retreated to the back porch. "I'll be grilling if anyone needs me."

My mom and I remained in the foyer, eyeing each other down like an old western standoff.

I asked, "You really want a guest over with all these unpacked boxes still here?"

"Gladly."

"Well." I stepped over the welcome rug around her. "That's your choice. I just hope he doesn't find it tacky. Wouldn't want to make a bad first impression." I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head as I walked up the stairs to my room.

* * *

 **A/N: Thanks for reading! What did you think of Troy and Gabriella studying together and playing basketball? How do you think it will go when Troy gets introduced to her family?**


	5. A Place To Belong

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **5\. A Place To Belong**

 _January 10th, 2018_

When I woke up this morning, I wasn't even sure I was still _me_. I miraculously felt properly rested and rejuvenated for once. Every fear and anxiety that had plagued my mind my first day was gone. I leapt off my bed and merrily pranced across my room to my dresser. Inside, I found my favorite, most flattering black dress and paired it with a beautiful knitted red cardigan.

I closed my door as quietly as I could and tiptoed across the hallway to my parent's room. "Hello?" I asked into the room, putting my ear up to the door and heard the soft pitter-patter of water running in the shower. I poked my head in to find their messy, vacant bed. I went in and peeked inside the bathroom, spotting my target on the vanity on just the other side of the door. I reached my thin arm through the slightly cracked open door and gently slid the makeup box across the counter and into my arms.

I crept across the upper level back to my room. I placed the makeup box on the floor in front of my full-length and knelt down in front of it. I began removing the foundation, eyeliner, blush, etc. (Thank god my mom and I have the same olive skin tone.) I began applying the foundation on my face as evenly as I could when I felt a presence. I slowly turned my head towards the door; my hands froze half way to my face as I locked eyes with my mother, leaning against my doorframe in a towel.

"What are you doing?"

"Uhh," I glanced at my scared reflection in the mirror before turning back to her. "Nothing?"

Her eyebrow shot up. "It looks like you borrowed my make up without my permission."

"Oh yeah! Now I remember! I borrowed your make up." I smiled cheekily.

My mother's eternal frown miraculously curled upward into an unprecedented smirk and she began giggling. "If you had asked, maybe I would have helped you."

I looked at my reflection, searching for any flaws before declaring, "I don't need your help. I'm doing just fine."

"No, no, no" My mother shook her head, an amused expression still gracing her features. "Let me show you how it's done." She kneeled in front of me on the floor and began applying my make up for me, her steady hands tracing over my skin with the brushes and pencils. I stared into her dark brown eyes as they displayed her meticulous concentration. It was an exercise in trust allowing her steady hands to frame my sensitive eyes with charcoal black liner. I was grateful in that moment that we could share such an intimate routine. Now, will her thick brush tickling my cheeks, I understood that her recent exercise in tough love was not maliciously intended. She had been pushing me these last few days because somehow, she really knew I could handle it.

"Done," she said, guiding me by my chin to look at the mirror.

"Whoa!" I exclaimed, admiring her work.

"Just don't let your father see," she said, capping the lipstick and tossing it back into the box. "It'd make him cry."

I waited for her to finish getting ready outside her room until she snuck me down the stairs. She pushed me out the door first and called into the house behind us, "Have a good day, Honey!"

My dad called out to us, "You too!"

My mom murmured to me, "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

After a few minutes of silence as the city swirled by outside our windows, my mother spoke up. "Was Troy his name?"

"The guy I was with yesterday?"

"Sure, if that's the guy you're all dolled up for."

"I'm not dolled up for anyone."

My mother glanced at me with her trademark _I know better_ look. "C'mon, then. If it's not Troy, who is it?"

"I'm wearing make up and a dress on my own accord. For myself and no one else, thank you very much."

"Now _there's_ the independent young woman I raised!" She proudly yelled to no one in particular and we laughed.

When we got to the front of the school, she had one last piece of advice for me. "Gabriella, I want your primary focus to be school. It's nice that there are more people for you to make friends with, but if your grades start slipping, we're putting you somewhere else. West High. Do you understand my expectations?"

"Yes," I responded, not tacking on my initial comeback that West High has boys, too. We were finally getting along, why sour it?

"Alright. Have a good day, sweetie."

"You too," I said. I walked up to the doors sent a smile to the massive clock that once intimidated me.

"Gabriella!" A voice called out to me. I turned around and found Taylor cutting her way through a crowd to me with a rolling backpack trailing behind her.

"Hey Tay!"

She seemed slightly taken back by my name for her, but continued, "Good morning." She cleared her throat and smoothed out her blazer. "Have you reconsidered your stance on joining our scholastic decathlon team?"

"Has Martha rethought hers?"

"I'm afraid not."

"I'm sorry. I can't intrude."

"Gabriella, let me reassure you that you would not be intruding in the slightest. The vast majority of the team wants you to join."

"I don't know. I'm not trying to disrupt anything good you guys have."

"That's the thing Gabriella, we're not good," she admitted. "We would finally become something good if you joined our team. What do you say? Will you join us?"

"But…Martha - "

"Martha will get over it," she promised. "If she gives you any trouble, let me take care of her. You just worry about those titration calculations. Please, Gabriella. I'm begging."

"Fine," I reluctantly obliged.

"Thank you!" Taylor jumped with joy. "I promise you won't regret it. Maybe we'll get to go to nationals after all!"

"Let's handle of regionals first."

"Now that's the kind of prioritization we need in our leadership! You know, if you hadn't been so stubborn with joining, I might have considered you too be my co-captain," she teased. "What a shame."

"Yes, such a shame," I laughed.

"What's this?" Anthony jumped off from the top of a bench and walked over to us, his group of skaters watching. "Did I hear that you're joining the official nerd squad?" He smiled at his jab proudly while we stared at him blankly. "C'mon! I'm only teasing! But you two, I told you, didn't I? I knew from the moment I saw little Gabriella here that she'd fit right in. Looks like I found you the perfect addition to your schooling triathlon troop."

Taylor said, "Scholastic decathlon team?"

"Whatever," Anthony said. "So, where's my thanks?"

I foolishly asked him, "What am I supposed to do to thank you?"

"I have an idea." Putting his hand in an 'O' shape, he opened his mouth and began moving his head forward and back to his hand.

"You're vile!" Taylor spat. "Leave us alone!"

"I'm obviously joking. Christ, calm yourself. It was just a joke." Anthony winked at me and rushed back to his friends before Taylor could yell at him more, which by her clenched fists and tense shoulders she appeared ready to do.

I asked Taylor, "What's the deal with that guy?"

"Who knows? He probably wasn't hugged enough as a child."

I giggled. "C'mon," I said, and she and I accompanied each other inside the building until setting off for our own respective homerooms.

Mrs. Darbus sped through a reminder of the dress code before fully divulging into the impact theater had on Roman society. I was so close to passing out from boredom that my head nearly fell off my desk. The bell rang after what felt like actual eternity and I set off for Biology, my heart singing happily in my chest.

I opened the door covered in science-based puns and memes (the ones teachers print out to seem relatable) and first noticed Troy in the back of the lab as usual. I took my seat at our table and took out my book to read.

I recognized Mr. Brannigan's tie die lab coat out of the corner of my eye. I couldn't help but feel on edge just from his presence alone. I slowly raised my eyes and found his back turned to me, erasing what had been on the blackboard. He abruptly turned around and I dropped my eyes down into the book again.

"Hey," A soft voice said beside me, and I looked towards it. A pair of magnificent blue eyes met mine, and a smile immediately bloomed on my face.

I don't think I had time to calculate a response (if one were to eventually come) before we were interrupted. "Let me see your homework," Mr. Brannigan was towering over me, his big hand reached out. I quickly unzipped my backpack, took out my notebook, and flipped it over to the correct page. He snatched it from me and read down the list of answers. "Why don't you show your work?"

"I don't need to," I answered.

"You're not the one to decide that, I am. You need to show all your work. How else can I know that you didn't just copy the answers down?"

"Those are _my_ answers," I quietly remarked, my arms crossing over my constricting chest.

"I don't want to do this…" Mr. Brannigan began, and I began fearing the worst. A painful ache began pulsating in my gut from underneath the anticipation. "Let me see your work, Troy."

"My-?" Troy began, but quickly obeyed and showed his homework to him. Mr. Brannigan stared at Troy while slowly accepting the papers. He took a few never ending moments to look compare the works, and I felt my heart thumping harder and harder in my chest.

"You have some wrong, Troy. I still don't know how you got your answers, Gabriella."

"I did them," I shyly spoke.

"You have no proof of that!" Mr. Brannigan snapped, smacking my notebook back onto the table and letting it fall into my lap. "What did I tell you yesterday? I told you that if I saw anymore suspicious behavior, that'd be the last straw."

My voice shook as I spoke, "I'll do it over again-"

"What are you saying?" He interrupted.

"I'll redo the homework if you want."

"The homework is due _today_. I won't accept any late work. I'm giving you a zero for today. Show your work." Mr. Brannigan warned me before casually greeting the whole class.

I couldn't pay his lecture much attention, opting instead to fill my notebook pages with doodles of three-dimensional boxes. It soothed the beast in my belly better than acknowledging the dictator at the front of the classroom.

When the bell finally rang, I took little time packing my things. I was already a few steps across the tile when I heard Troy behind me say, "Gabby, hold up."

"I'll talk to you outside of the room," I murmured and left the classroom, sticking near the door by a row of lockers. I put my foot against a locker behind me, but nearly lost my balanced and instead flattened myself against it. When I saw Troy exit the room, I glanced away nervously before acknowledging him. "Hey!"

"Hey, that was pretty brutal."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting used to it," I lied.

"Yeah," Troy chuckled. "So, are we working together the same time as yesterday?"

"Yes, but we'll have to do it at my house. I don't know," I rambled. "My parents are just a little concerned I guess. I don't know. I mean, we could try to get it done during lunch instead."

"No, it's alright." Troy said.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah, your dad is funny!"

" _Really_?" I repeated, reasonably surprised.

"I think so," Troy chuckled. "I'll head over at four. Sound okay?"

"Yes," I said.

Troy appeared distracted by something and quickly mumbled, "See you then." Then he left down the hallway.

I allowed my eyes to linger on his departing figure until it disappeared into the crowd. When I turned to leave for my next class, I found what Troy had seen – Mr. Brannigan standing outside his door, his fuming eyes glued to me. I left in the opposite direction, a much longer way through the halls.

…

I could navigate the heavy flow of bodies heading towards the courtyard much better today. I remained in pace with the countless others until I could break off for my table. I headed towards the back, excited to save my spot and race to the cafeteria. I walked past the last few bodies in my way and found Martha and Taylor animatedly arguing with each other. Martha's eyes suddenly found mine and she immediately stomped away in a huff. Taylor then looked towards me, smiled empathetically, and shrugged.

"Was that about me?" I asked.

"No," Her eyes avoided mine and I knew that had been a lie. "That was just…something else. Let's get some food. Aren't you starving?" She quickly marched away from me.

"Yeah," I drawled, still unconvinced. I set my backpack next to hers and trailed after her.

Getting through the massive lines of people took away nearly twenty minutes of our lunch period. Eventually, I set down my plate of nachos (Taylor's recommendation) at the table and took my seat. Everyone quickly followed and Taylor wasted no time announcing me as a new member of the team.

"Team," she folded her hands on top of the table seriously. "After much deliberation, I have made the executive decision to allow Gabriella to join us as we prepare for regionals."

Martha was the first to speak up, asking, "Will she be competing with us?" with a distasteful look on her face.

"She will be as much a member of the team as the rest of you. Now-" Taylor was quickly cut off by the loud screech of Martha's chair against the linoleum tile. She put on her backpack and flipped her curly brown hair dramatically before grabbing her tray and abandoning her spot.

"Now that that's out of the way, let's discuss practice times. When is everyone free? We also need to be mindful that classrooms lock at five. So ideally, we'll be out of here by then." Taylor's words quickly faded to white noise as I stared ahead at the empty seat across from me. My eyebrows furrowed together in guilt as I felt entirely at fault for pushing Martha out of the team. I wanted to belong somewhere, but I didn't want to replace anyone.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! What do you think of Mr. Brannigan singling out Gabriella again?**


	6. Meet The Montez Family

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **6\. Meet The Montez Family**

I waited at the window by the door like I had the day before, only this time I had to push a tarp to the side due to some construction my parents were doing to it. They didn't have much explanation when I asked what was wrong with the window before, but I digress. I leaned against the bare, exposed wood of the frame. I gently tapped my fingertips repeatedly on the glass window in anticipation, awaiting that sky blue pick up truck.

"Gabriella!" I heard my mother call from the kitchen on the other side of the living room.

I quickly huffed a sigh in annoyance. "Yes?" I yelled back.

"Come here!" She barked back. I gave one last long look down the road before reluctantly abandoning my post. I raced past the stacks of collapsed boxes to the kitchen, my sock-covered feet sliding me atop the tile floor.

I spotted my mother kneeling on top of the brownish granite countertops, applying a fresh coat of white paint to the side of a cabinet. "Could you please remove the teacups from the cabinets for afternoon tea?"

"We can't have tea now, Troy's going to arrive soon!" I argued.

"Don't be so concerned about that, now do as I said," she demanded before redirecting her attention to the small can of white paint.

I huffed and grabbed the stepstool from its place next to the stove and set it up. I ascended it and reached into the small, shallow cabinets above the sink and removed our three teacups, two platters, and one teapot. I gently set the pieces down and replaced the stepstool to its home.

Randomly, my mother asked, "What does Troy like to eat?"

I scrunched my face in surprise at her odd question. "How would I know?"

"Well, can you take a guess? I need to know what to cook for dinner."

"I don't think he's planning on staying for dinner," I said, opening the pantry doors and scanning its contents for our black tea.

"Didn't you invite him?" She asked.

"No," I reached for the little gold tin. "I thought he was only coming over here because you don't trust him. Why would I think to invite him to stay later than he already has to?"

"I'm not making you study here because I don't trust him. I don't know the guy, I want to know that I _can_ trust him."

"Okay," I said, although I didn't truly understand. I spooned the dried leaves into the infusion basket and set it in the pot. I held the pot by its fragile handle and approached the hot water tap over the stove. I was carefully filling the pot when there was a knock coming from the front door. A sudden buzz of excitement pulsated through my body and heart and I excused myself from the room, "I'll get it." I put the pot on the counter and dashed through the living room.

I spotted my father far in front of me already wrapping his large hand over the knob, Troy's figure visible through the blurred glass. "I'll get it!" I called. He held his hand up to me. I obeyed and stayed behind him, looking on as he opened the door.

"Hello, Troy." My father offered his strong hand out to him.

"Good afternoon Mr..." I heard him trail off.

"Montez," my father said.

"Mr. Montez," Troy stated, clearing his throat and shifting his weight.

"Come on inside, Troy," my father held the door for him.

"Thank you, sir. You have a lovely home." We slowly passed through the foyer and into the living room, stopping next to the stairs.

"Thank you," my father motioned towards me, "Gabriella can show you the study."

"Follow me," I said perkily and I mentally cursed myself for sounding so giddy. I guided Troy past the dining room and den, and veered us into the study.

"Wow, this is nice!" He said, his wonderful eyes tracing around the bookcases barricading us from the rest of the house. A large, antique map of the world sprawled across the entire wall on the opposite side and a massive wooden table sat in the center.

"Thanks," I laughed nervously, for no reason at all.

"Yeah," Troy chuckled, looking at me amused. "Can I set up here?" He asked, approaching the large, square table at the center of the room.

"Of course," I said, stacking my dad's papers and removing them to the narrow decorative table in the hallway outside the door.

"Gabriella!" My mother's shrill voice yelled for me.

I visibly cringed from her interruption, "Um, excuse me?"

"Sure," Troy said, occupied by untangling his long, white charging cord from the other little things in his backpack.

I marched across the house to the kitchen and found my mother pouring our cups of tea from the teapot, a rag conveniently held onto its body beneath its leaky spout. "Hey," I spoke. "Troy and I were actually going to get started on studying," I began explaining.

"Troy!" My mother yelled.

"What are you doing?" I asked, lowering my head in embarrassment, bracing myself for the moment when Troy would enter the room and be put through whatever my mom was planning.

He came to my side, greeting my mother, "Hello Mrs. Montez."

"Hello Troy." She gently tilted the teapot up to stop its pouring and placed it on the countertop. "Afternoon tea is a little family tradition of ours. Here," She offered my bluebird teacup to him.

"Oh, no thank you," Troy waved the tea away. "I don't really like tea."

"Try it," my mother ordered.

Troy glanced at me for a second before taking the teacup. "Thank you," he said. He looked down at the brown liquid questioningly, tilting the cup side to side in observance. He blew on it for a moment and cautiously raised the steaming drink to his lips, glancing over the edge of the cup at me as he did so. My original observation of his eyes was correct; their blue and yellow colors perfectly complimented that of the bird on my teacup. He suddenly brought the teacup down into his hands and smiled, "It's pretty good."

"I'm glad." My mom smiled genuinely. "That's what happens when you try _real_ tea, not that bagged Lipton nonsense." She winked.

"Thank you for encouraging me to try it."

"Thank Gabriella, that's her share." She raised her cup to me in toasting before grabbing the other and setting off for somewhere else.

Troy looked at me and smiled, "Can I finish it?"

"Of course, I can always make a second infusion."

"Second _what_?" Troy blinked.

"Second infusion," I giggled. "With this particular type I can stretch it to three before it loses its flavor."

"Wow, you guys really do know your tea."

I blushed and shrugged, fiddling with my fingers behind my back. "We should get started on the biology homework," I suddenly remembered. "It's going to take me a _lot_ longer now that I have to show my work."

"That's true," Troy responded. I turned to lead him back to the study and he cautiously followed, his eyes focusing on the full teacup he carried.

When we found the study again, I quickly discovered my backpack tipped over and a trail of papers leading around to the other side of the table. "Isabella…" I said warningly. I heard a short gasp from the other side of the table and the chair across from me began shaking. I leaped over to the other side of the table and found the bare binding and covers of a notebook with torn out pages scattered about. "Isabella!" I growled, dropping down to crouch on the floor and look underneath the table. Barricaded in by chairs, she sat at the center with a handful of more loose, torn papers. "Those were my notes!"

" _My_ notes," she responded.

"Isabella," I said, "You know those were sissy's notes, not your notes. You don't take things out of my backpack, okay? You don't do that."

"Sissy notes," she understood, pushing them back towards me on the floor.

Troy crouched down to see what was happening from the other side of the table. Isabella gasped in surprise at the stranger's sudden appearance.

"Troy, Meet my little sister Isabella. I hope you didn't leave your backpack open."

"No, we're good. Actually-" he looked away in thought, then abruptly jumped to his feet and came over to the side I was on as I stood up. He reached into his backpack on the table and exposed a black and white composition notebook. "Isabella," he bent down to reach beneath the table. He straightened back up and I heard the distinct sound of paper tearing from beneath it.

"Is it okay that she does that?"

"Yeah, the class is super easy anyways."

"What do you say to Troy, Isabella?"

A little voice spoke from beneath the table, "Thank you Twoy." _Rip._

Troy bent down and scooped up a handful of my notes. "I hope this wasn't too important," he offered them out to me.

I giggled, "No. It's just social studies stuff. She didn't do anything I wasn't already thinking of doing myself."

 _Rip._

After nearly an hour and a half of biology problems, my parents called us in for dinner. Initially Troy tried to excuse himself from staying, but they insisted. He and I set the table while my parents brought over the plates and trays of food.

"Gabriella, would you like to say grace?"

"Sure," I cleared my throat, "In the name of the-"

"En español, mija." My father instructed me to say grace in Spanish.

"Pero," I argued, "Troy no puede compre-"

"Dios puede comprendernos bien. Empieza." He told me to start, saying that God could understand us.

"En el nombre del padre y del hijo y del espíritu santo…Dios, gracias por esta comida, como las papas, los frijoles verdes, y…" I paused, completely blanking on the word for spaghetti, so I guessed. "El spaghetti?"

My father let out a heavy sigh, "El espagueti, mija."

I shortened my thanks, "Gracias por el espagueti. ¡Amén!"

My parents murmured back, "¡Amén!"

My father began scooping his serving of green beans. I noticed his moustache twitching irritably, as though it was itching him to speak. "Don't they teach you Spanish in that school, Gabriella?" He blurted out.

"Nothing new," I said.

"What about you, Troy?" My father zeroed in on Troy positioned next to me, "Are you learning Spanish?"

"No, sir. I'm studying German."

"Why do you want to study German?" My father asked disapprovingly.

"I heard it was the new language of business. They have a wonderful economy in Germany and I'd like to go into business someday."

My mother joined, "Spanish wouldn't hurt in any profession."

"Certainly," Troy agreed. "There's no disadvantage to knowing more languages."

My mother transitioned, "Are you involved in any extracurricular activities, Troy?"

"Yes, ma'am. I play basketball on the varsity team."

My father said, "Varsity, eh? We heard that basketball is the big sport at East High."

My mother asked, "Where do you want to go to college?" I feared that this dinner was dissolving into nothing short of an interrogation.

Troy responded, "Berkeley."

"You're sure that's where you want to go?"

"Yes, I'm already set to move in this August."

My mother paused, "You're graduating early?"

"No, ma'am. I'm a senior. This is my last semester."

My father chimed in, too, "You're eighteen?"

"Yes," Troy responded.

An awkward silence played out and I wished I could disappear. At the end of the dinner, he won back some points after he helped clearing the plates without being asked. Regardless, we were through all that and had only a few problems left. Later in the study, Troy asked me, "So wait, why did you divide it by ten?"

"Because there are ten centimeters per decimeter, and we need the answer to be in decimeters. So by dividing it by ten, we get the answer into decimeters. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, it does," he brought his eraser down onto his paper. The little fibers of eraser flaked onto the page. "I just forgot we had to convert it is all."

"That's alright. It's an easy thing to forget, but you know Mr. Brannigan will count that wrong. So be careful."

"You're right, thanks." Troy smiled.

I returned his smile, before shyly bowing my head, "Excuse me," I set off to the bathroom.

When I returned, he was facing the fireplace with his backpack on. I noticed then that he was looking at a painting hung between a gap in the bookcases. "Cool house," he commented.

I stood next to him and found what he was looking at. I recognized it immediately by its red siding and massive, ocean-like body of water behind it. A nostalgic smile snuck its way onto my face. "It was, thank you."

"You lived there?" Troy asked incredulously.

"Yes." I gestured to the lake. "You see all that water?"

"Yeah."

"We had a dock in the backyard that led out onto that lake. You couldn't see the other side from there. It looked like it was the end of the world."

"That's awesome!"

"I know, right! I spent so much time out there." I reminisced.

"Fishing?"

"Reading. It was the perfect spot," I boasted. "Absolute heaven on Earth."

"Sounds like it meant a lot to you."

"It does."

"Do you ever wish you never moved?" He asked.

My eyes traced his profile, his sculpted nose and sharp jawline until he looked directly at me and I locked eyes with him. "Not anymore."

He opened his mouth to say something when a voice calling our names abruptly shut him up before he could even start.

"Coming!" I yelled back, leading him back to the kitchen where I spotted a tray of my mom's famous brownies.

"How many people live at your house, Troy? I need to know how many to pack up for you."

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Montez. It's me, my dad, and my mom."

"Of course, Troy." My mother said, stacking some brownies on a plate and covering it with saran wrap. "You're welcome back here anytime."

"Thank you. I should probably head out before my mom calls."

"I'll walk you out," My dad's deep voice said from behind us.

"Um, thanks for the help, Gabriella," Troy followed my dad out and I was left to my mother's devices.

We stared at each other unmoved in an uncomfortable silence. "What?" I finally spoke.

"He's a nice kid," she admitted.

"I know," I crossed towards the empty sink and grabbed the bowl that had held the batter.

"It's pretty easy to like him, isn't it?" She said, and I could feel her eyes burning into the back of my head.

"He's a nice guy, I'd agree," I said, scraping my finger along the inside of the bowl and licking off the batter.

"I think you both would make a cute couple."

My eyes opened larger than our teacup saucers and the bowl nearly dropped from my limp hands. "What?" I pivoted towards her.

She approached me with a small smirk on her lips, took the bowl from me, and gently set it back in the sink. "I think you two would make a cute couple."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"Dinner with him, he was respectful and kind. Convincing your father will take more work, I'm afraid."

"Well, it's not like he likes me back," I crossed my arms.

"After the way I noticed him catching glances at you tonight? I couldn't be more certain about anything else."

"Are you serious?" I gaped.

" _Like, totally_ serious," my mom imitated her idea of how a teenager would sound.

"Don't," I said.

My dad announced his presence, saying, "Nice kid. Too old for you."

"They're only two years apart, David." My mother argued for me and I felt the need to pinch myself, it was so surreal.

"He'll be going to college soon. Then he'd be a college freshman dating a high schooler, and _long distance_ , too."

"David…"

"No, Maria!"

I butted in, "This isn't something worth arguing over! We're just sharing a textbook for crying out loud. I'm sure this can all be saved for another day, _if_ that day ever comes. It shouldn't be an argument already. Goodnight." I went upstairs to my bedroom and got ready for bed, but couldn't help but consider Troy and I becoming a couple. It was highly unlikely, yet the possibility was far more in my favor than the hundreds of other girls at East High who crush on him, but have never even talked to him before. It was a fantasy for sure, but for now I decided it'd be impossible. I'm hoping realizing that fact will keep my feelings from going any deeper.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you very much for reading! Do you think Mr. and Mrs. Montez will ever come around to letting Troy and Gabriella date? Do you think Troy actually likes Gabriella like Mrs. Montez thinks?**


	7. Boys

...

Where Courage Ignites

 **7\. Boys**

 _January 11_ _th_ _, 2018_

"Gabriella!" A voice whispered in my ear.

My body jerked awake at the sudden disturbance. My eyelids sprung open and I gasped. "What?" I called back.

"Come." My mother stood at my windows, pulling the glowing curtains apart before approaching my mirror.

I slowly crawled out from underneath my sheets and crossed the room to join her. "What is it?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

"Here," she offered out her make up box to me. "Put it on the floor outside my door when you're done and wait for me in the car."

I held the heavy wicker box close to my chest, "Thanks."

"You'll need to buy yourself some of your own eventually," she said before disappearing into the hallway.

I groaned at the thought, but dropped down to the floor in front of my mirror and began putting it on nevertheless. I followed the rest of her instructions and not too long afterwards, we were on the ride to school.

"So," my mother began, twisting the knob on the radio's volume to turn it down. "Do you have any plans with friends this weekend?"

I looked over at her blankly. "No. Am I supposed to make plans with them?"

She hummed a soft laugh, "Sure! That's one thing friends are good for."

"Well, what would we do?"

"You could go shopping together, go see a movie. I can give you some money if you need it."

"Thanks," I said sincerely, admittedly surprised at her generosity.

"You'll have to babysit Isabella a few times to pay it back." Well, never mind then. "Don't worry about that." Putting the car into park, she laid her eyes on me. "Focus on your schoolwork."

"Alright," I groaned.

"Hey, I love you!"

"I love you, too." I shut the door behind me.

I began heading towards the row of doors into the building when I heard someone call my name. I recognized the voice as Taylor's and glanced towards that direction, immediately spotting her and the rest of the scholastic decathlon team trailing behind her.

"We're thinking about meeting up next Tuesday after school in Miss. Langdon's room. Will that work for you?"

"Yeah, I'll just have to move some stuff around, but that'll work find for me," I nodded.

"Great!" She smiled, relieved. "We'll see you at lunch then."

"Of course!" I said and we meandered inside the school with the others.

…

Mrs. Darbus and Mr. Brannigan were both their predictable selves, the former putting me to sleep with a lecture and the latter singling me out to look at my homework. If there's any silver lining in the dark, dreary day that Mr. Brannigan relentlessly overcasts, it's that I'm no longer alone when he points his suspicious eyes in my direction. I always have Troy there next to me for moral support.

Nachos weren't available at lunch today, so Taylor veered me towards their chicken melts and French fries. We sat together at our habitual spots along with everyone else, but the one empty seat occupied far too much space in my mind. Was I right to step into the team like I did? Should I offer Martha a spot back? It's not like we couldn't all fit. It was hard to know if I had really wronged her the way she seemed to think I did. My thoughts kept bringing me back to her until I noticed Taylor seemed especially distracted by something off in the distance. I followed her line of sight to a table of jocks, and Troy.

"Who are you looking at?" I asked her.

"Nobody." She quickly redirected her attention back to her unopened box of milk, fidgeting with the seal.

"Do you…" I trailed off, nervous to voice my hunch that she likes Troy, too.

"I…" Taylor tilted her head down secretively as she spoke, "I know you saw."

"Hmm?"

"I know you saw where I was looking. _Who_ I was looking at, rather."

"You're right." I swallowed the lump in my throat. "I know."

Taylor stared at me nervously for a moment before melting, "he's just so cute!"

She squealed and I couldn't help but smile at the thought of him, "I know!" I cooed; looking in his direction and watching him talk animatedly with his friends, all sporting the same white and red varsity jacket. My eyes traced along its collar and buttons, wondering how it'd fit on me. I imagined how it would feel swimming in that oversized jacket with the name BOLTON on my back.

"And his jawline is so sharp," Taylor mentioned.

"Mm hmm," I swooned. "And his eyes."

"Don't even get me started, girl."

"They're absolutely mesmerizing."

"Can we please talk about his hair? It's so fluffy."

"Really?" I cocked my head to the side and studied his somewhat shaggy locks. "I don't know if I'd call it that."

"Are you joking? Look at it!"

"I am…Wait, are we talking about the same person?"

"Who are you talking about?"

"Troy Bolton."

Taylor erupted in a laugh I couldn't imagine she could produce, "Gabriella," she gasped. "I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about Chad Danforth."

"Who?"

"Troy's best friend."

"Oh thank god!" I laughed my worry away. "Here I was thinking we'd have to fight over a guy."

"Same!" Her laughter started simmering down. "I was trying so hard to relate to you about how cute he is like I didn't have a problem with it, but good lord would I!" She held her hand over her abdomen and sighed.

"So you like Chad, hmm?"

"Yes, but…" Taylor shook her head; "This is going to sound so pathetic."

"It's okay," I said, placing my hand on her arm. "I won't think you're pathetic. I promise."

"It's just…" She dropped her gaze to her hands in her lap. "We've never spoken to each other."

"Oh, well, that's okay," I reassured her.

She scoffed disbelievingly, "Really?"

"Of course! You can't control your feelings for someone when you like them, you know? So what that you've never talked? So what that he might not know your name? You still like him, _so what_?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"You have to give yourself permission to like him. Why bother resisting when it can't change your feelings anyways? Don't be ashamed, embrace!"

"You're right," she smiled. "Thanks, Gabriella."

…

I held my backpack straps on either side of my chest as I trekked the steep parking lot towards the bus stop, the overcast sky above and fog thick in the air around me. "Hey!" A voice called after me. I spun around and was slightly taken back to see Anthony jogging up to me, "Gabriella!" He breathed heavily, and I wondered how long far he had been trying to get my attention, "What's your last name?"

"Montez." I answered, "Um, what's yours?" I asked awkwardly, unsure of what else to say.

"Brannigan," He said.

"Oh," my eyebrows furrowed as I wondered if he was related to Mr. Brannigan.

"And yes, my dad is the biology teacher and my mom is the counselor."

"I have your dad for bio, but I didn't know your mom works here."

"Yeah, she has for the last five years. My dad used to work in a different district until he got hired on here last semester."

"Oh," I nodded. "Neat."

"Yeah, I'm sure you didn't see that coming since I look so damn Asian. My dad's white, but if you saw my mom you'd understand. She's a full blown C-H-I-N-K."

"What did you just say?" I said, shocked to hear such racist language.

"What? I'm Asian, I can use it."

My brain computed no response to his logic. I was too uncomfortable after hearing the word to seriously consider his stance on its usage. I nervously glanced around the parking lot, looking for a route between cars to sprint away from him.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Look, I wanted to invite you to a party this Saturday. My friend's parents will be out of town so we're throwing a little get together. Here's the address." He extended a water-damaged flashcard with an address on it to me.

I stared at the piece of paper in conflict, not at all wanting to attend his party, but also not wanting to provoke him.

"Just take it," Anthony stepped around me and grabbed for my backpack. I felt him unzip it and shove the card into one of the pockets. "Come if you can. I'd like to see you there." He shoved his hands into his tight skinny jeans and ran away.

I watched him as he rejoined his group of skaters all dressed in similar attire, and wondered what about me led him to believe that I'd possibly attend a party with him and his friends. I was just some nerdy, awkward girl. He was a sk8rboi. Who am I kidding? We don't live in an Avril Lavigne song. It just didn't make sense. Something felt off.

…

After removing my makeup before my father got home, I watched from behind the tarp again, my knee resting on a bare bench-like surface up against the window. It was four o'clock sharp when the punctual sky blue pick up try rolled into the driveway. I stood in place of the front door as he descended from the big truck and flung his backpack over his muscular shoulder. He manually locked his car door and walked up to meet me wearing his usual, friendly smile.

I guided Troy through the house while my parents greeted him, my mom from the kitchen and my dad from the den. We quickly set up in the study and got down to business much like the evening before. He had dinner with us again, but it was far less tense now that my parents had warmed up to him. We were at the last few problems when we heard my mother call my name.

"I should probably see what that's about," I excused myself.

"Sure, it's probably good that I work on these problems alone so my wrong answers will be different from yours," Troy joked.

I sent him an empathetic smile and departed for the kitchen.

"Dry the dishes," my mother ordered, tossing me a rag from her spot reading a magazine at the island.

"This couldn't wait?" I huffed, picking up the small, clean salad plates and wiping the water particles from it.

"Nope," she said, popping the last consonant on her lips.

"Whatever you say," I said. I was on the last few pans when someone else entered the room – Troy, with his backpack on and homework in his hand.

"Thank you so much for dinner, Mrs. Montez," He said.

"Of course, Troy. As I said, you're welcome over anytime."

"My family should host Gabi sometime. I'm sure they'd love to have her," he said, smiling down at me.

"That's a nice thought," my mother agreed. She closed her magazine and took it and her last cup of tea into the den.

"I can walk you out," I offered, wiping my hands off on the towel and folding it over the oven's handle. I led him through the house and onto our stoop.

He turned towards me, crumpling up a paper his hands as he grabbed onto his backpack straps. "Oh!" He suddenly looked towards the papers. "Did you want to look over my last problems? Make sure they're wrong enough and whatnot?"

I giggled, "Sure." I took the pages from him and took a few moments to glance over the problems, squinting to see them better with just the dim porch light illuminating the space. "Troy," I said. "These are all right."

"What?" He came to my side to look at them, too. "Are you serious?"

"Yes! They're all correct!"

"That's awesome! Thank you!" He smiled, and then unexpectedly brought his arms around me in an embrace. It took a moment to register that we were hugging before my body reacted, my arm snaking in the gap between his backpack and his lower back. He soon let his arms fall back to his sides and stepped apart. "I'll see you tomorrow, Gabby. Have a good night." With that, he left.

I went inside and closed the door behind me, locked it, and leaned against it for support as I slowly slid down to the ground. There on my foyer floor, I cupped rose-colored cheeks and squealed.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! What do you think of Gabriella accepting her feelings for Troy? Do you think there's potential for Taylor to get with Chad?**


	8. Games

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **8\. Games**

 _January 12_ _th_ _, 2018_

This morning, I was woken by the sensation of object being placed at the foot of my bed. I opened my weary eyes in time to spot my mother departing from my room. I glanced down to the object a few inches away from my feet and quickly discovered it to be a new makeup set just for myself. I smiled and eagerly threw its lid open, burying my hands in the loose containers of palates, brushes, and lipsticks.

After I was dressed, wearing make up, and my hair done up, I tiptoed down the stairs. I checked to make sure the coast was clear and headed towards the front door when my father unexpectedly came back in through the door with the morning paper in his hands.

We locked eyes and I stiffly tried to turn away. He yelled, "I see you, Gabriella!"

My mother joined my side, nervously wringing her hands in front of her. "Honey!" She greeted him.

"What is Gabriella doing with that on her face?" He put his fist on his hip and jutted his lower jaw forward.

"Oh." Her shoulders caved forward in defeat. "I suppose it was about time you found out."

My father addressed me. "What's wrong with your face?"

"What?" I asked, totally lost.

"What is so wrong with your face that you feel the need to cover it up with make up?" He crossed his arms over his chest.

My mother answered for me. "You know it's nothing like that, David. Wearing make up is a rite of passage for a young woman, something you just wouldn't understand.

"I agree that our daughter is beautiful and certainly doesn't need makeup, like anyone _needs_ it. At the end of the day, it's her face. She gets to choose what to do with it and doesn't need her father to shame her. Is she hurting anyone? No. Now excuse us, we're running late." She grabbed my arm and led me out to the car without hearing another word from my father.

…

Taylor and I placed our trays down on the table at the same time and took our seats next to each other. I let her get situated for a moment before I asked, "Do you have any plans tonight?"

"Well," she said while placing a napkin on her lap, "I was going to go to the school carnival."

"School carnival? We have one of those?"

"Of course!" She laughed. "There are flyers for it everywhere, haven't you noticed? It's only for this weekend. I was going to go tonight. Do you want to come with me?"

"Yeah! That sounds like fun!"

I felt a buzz in my pocket, so I checked my phone.

 ** _Troy_** _: Hey, would you mind putting off studying until Sunday? There's some stuff I wanted to do this weekend._

 _That's fine!_ I responded, _I'll see you Sunday. :)_

…

My mother dropped me off just outside the fences surrounding the parking lot where the carnival was taking place. I quickly texted Taylor, _I'm by the entrance._ I paced the sidewalk while others passed by me to enter the grounds. After a few minutes, I spotted Taylor. We greeted each other and joined the line for the ticket booth. After a little while, we could finally enter the carnival grounds from beneath a massive arch of balloons. We stood in awe at the countless games we could try. There were ring tosses, rubber duckies, whack-a-mole, plinko, etc.

Taylor trailed off; "We could…" she looked around and was struck with indecision like me.

Barely visible through the long line to the funnel cakes, I spotted a familiar group sporting their usual white and red varsity jackets. I suggested, "We could hang out with Troy's group." I pointed toward the team and Taylor followed my finger to see them.

Taylor scoffed, "Yeah, _right_."

"Why not?" I took a step towards them.

"Gabriella," she grabbed my arm to hold me back. "I don't want to talk to them."

"Why not? Don't you want to talk to Chad?"

"Not really."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm scared."

"There's no reason to be afraid. You'll be fine. I'll be there with you the whole time, I promise." I hooked my arm with hers and began walking with her towards the guys.

"I can't believe I'm letting you do this." Taylor shook her head, but kept her pace with me well.

Troy and Chad had already broken off from the group and were at a baseball pitching game when I interrupted, "That looks easy."

Troy looked over his shoulder at me, his wound up pitch frozen in the air. "You think so?" He smirked, hurling the baseball. It forcefully hit and dented the wood next to the bull's eye with a loud _smack!_

"Need some help?" I teased and Chad laughed.

"If you're so confident you can make it," he challenged me and tossed over one of the baseballs.

I took the ball into my hands and stood where he had been, directly in front of the bull's eye. I wound up my throw and Troy observed, "That's a unique form." I mistakenly went to throw it while giggling and the ball curved out of my hand and headed straight for the game operator waiting by the side.

I put my hands over my mouth in surprise. "I'm so sorry." I turned back to find Chad, Taylor, and Troy laughing at my failed attempt. "That was just practice! Let me go again," I pleaded to Troy. "Can I go again?"

He hesitantly agreed, "I guess." I wound my arm back again, when I felt something touch it. "Hold up," Troy said, gently lowering my arm. "We have to fix your form."

"What's wrong with my form?"

"Here, watch. You want to stand sideways to the target, like this," he placed his hands on my hips from behind me and positioned them perpendicular to the wall. "Okay?" He removed his hands. "Then before you throw it, put your knee up high, then lean into the throw when you step down. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah." I held the ball close to my chest, spotting the tiny target on the board.

"Put your knee up real high," Troy coached me. "Just like they do in the movies."

I took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the bells and rings of the other stations fade away as I focused. I lifted my foot up from the asphalt as Troy instructed, replaced it on the ground and leaned into the throw, my eyes following it as it hurled right for the red bull's eye. Our stationed joined the others in a rejoicing tune of triumph as the lights flashed and the station worker handed me a prize.

Taylor cheered, "Yay, Gabby! Woo!" as Troy and Chad clapped.

"Here, it's yours." I held out the small stuffed rabbit by its oversized belly to Troy.

He shook his head. "You won it, you should keep it."

"Nonsense! I used your turn. Please, take the bunny."

Troy took the little stuffed animal and said, "Well then I have to win you one now."

Chad impatiently sighed and said to Taylor, "We're going to be here awhile."

"Let's do something that's more up my alley," Troy sent a nod to Chad and waved him forward. Chad joined Troy as they led Taylor and I from the last game, talking out a plan amongst each other. Troy nodded towards the game of the line we joined, a simple basketball shooting set up. Soon enough it was their turn, so they approached the bottom of the game and stood side by side, each wielding an orange basketball and preparing to shoot it. The start buzzer sounded and the game operator yelled, "Go!"

They quickly shot their baskets and blindly grabbed for more balls as they slowly rolled down the ramp. They were in perfect synchronization for a few shots before Troy's slowly started overpassing Chad's rhythm. Before we knew it, the operator announced. "Stop! Good job, boys! I think we might have _two_ winners today." The frumpy man in his oversized red and white checkered jacket dug his hands into a trunk. He exposed a stuffed teddy, white in color with a red heart stitched onto its chest. "For the winner, a perfectly huggable teddy bear named…Teddy."

Troy took the bear, then turned around to find me and said, "It's yours."

I slowly stepped towards him, reaching my hand forward and wrapping my fingers around the bear's soft arm. "Thank you," I said, taking the bear from him and holding it close to my chest.

Next, the man handed off a long, stuffed green snake to Chad and said, "For second best, a slithering serpent whose name escapes me, here you go."

Taking the long stuffed animal, Chad looked at it peculiarly for just a moment. Suddenly, he turned towards Taylor and asked her, "Does he look like a Hank to you?"

"Hmm," she took the snake's small head in her hands. "More like a Gregory."

"Gregory," Chad repeated. He grabbed Gregory by the back of the neck and began making him slither up Taylor's arm. "Gregory," Chad said, "c'mon man. Knock it off. Personal space."

Taylor laughed as Chad reached her neck with the snake and its little red tongue began tickling her.

Chad guided Gregory all the way around Taylor's other arm so that it rested around her neck like a scarf. "I think he likes you."

"Does he like Gabriella?" Taylor said teasingly, positioning her hand under its head and bringing it close to me.

I squealed in mock disgust and held my stuffed bear out for protection before retreating behind Troy.

While we laughed, a group of girls passing by abruptly halted and joined us. "Hey Troy," a strikingly blonde one spoke.

"Hi Sharpay," Troy responded politely, but judging by his rigid stance, he was uncomfortable speaking with the girl.

"How have you been?" She batted her eyes. "We don't talk much anymore."

"Yeah, I'm just busy." Troy reached a hand behind his head and began rubbing his neck, seemingly tense.

"I see," she looked at me. "Is this your," she trailed off.

"Umm, this is my friend Gabriella and her friend Taylor."

"Sharpay Evans," she reached out a hand to me. As she shook my hand she mentioned, "Troy and I dated before." I nodded in response, unsure how else it was expected of me to respond.

A cheerful voice from behind me said, "Is that Sharpay?" I turned around to find a brunette, middle-aged woman dashing up to us with a man trailing behind.

"Mrs. Bolton!" Sharpay said, opening up her arms to greet the woman with a hug.

"How are you, dear?" The woman excitedly asked her.

"I'm well, Mrs. Bolton. How are you?"

"Just running around after Troy, as always." The women laughed.

One of the girls Sharpay was with grew impatient, saying, "Sharpay, we're going to go ahead."

"Wait," she ordered sternly.

The group of girls all crossed their arms in protest.

"I should go," Sharpay said to Mrs. Bolton. "It was great running into you."

Mrs. Bolton said, "Of course, don't be a stranger. You're welcome over anytime, dear."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bolton." They hugged each other once again and the blonde and her posse left. I let my eyes follow them as they strutted away, wondering if that was still Troy's type.

"Are you one of Troy's new friends?" I twisted my head and found Mrs. Bolton was addressing me.

"I – yes, I'm Gabriella."

"Gabriella?" She asked.

"Yes."

"Oh, so _you're_ Gabriella!" Her eyes lit up in excitement.

"Yes," I repeated.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Gabriella. Troy's mentioned you."

"He has?" I asked incredulously.

Mrs. Bolton softly laughed, "Yes."

Troy cut in, "Isn't anyone else hungry? I'm starving."

"Me too!" Chad said.

Mr. Bolton, a man I vaguely recognized from the school hallways, said, "Take some of our food tickets, Troy. There should be enough for you and your friends." He dug into his jean pocket and took out a small roll of yellow tickets.

"Thanks, dad." Troy took them.

"Thank you, Mr. Bolton." Chad chimed in.

Troy began leading us away from his parents and towards the food stands, the smells of sugary funnel cakes and savory hot dogs quickly overwhelming my senses.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do you make anything of Troy and Gabriella winning each other prizes, or his discomfort around Sharpay? I'd love to know what you think.**


	9. Reputation

****Trigger Warning**: This chapter was written in compliance with FFN's rules and guidelines regarding no "detailed descriptions of physical interaction of sexual or violent nature". While there is no graphic description of rape itself, the rest of this story will mention and feature the aftermath of a sexual assault/rape. If you think that you might be triggered by descriptions of the physical and psychological issues following a rape, I'd advise you to stop reading. Thank you.**

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **9\. Reputation**

 _January 13_ _th_ _, 2018_

It was this Saturday evening when I randomly decided that it was finally time to unpack my room. I had only gotten through a few layers of boxes when…"Gab-by?" A soft, high-pitched voice called out to me. I turned to see my little sister in the cutest little pair of pink overalls standing in my doorway, dangling a fisher price phone by its string. "Gabby call Izzy!"

I reached into my pocket, "Okay!" I pulled out my phone and began exaggeratedly pressing my black screen. I brought the phone up to my face and sang, "Ring! Ring!"

Isabella smiled excitedly and quickly brought her phone up to her ear, "Hello?"

"Isabella! It's your big sister, Gabby!" I said. She lowered the phone and looked at it momentarily before pressing the big, red end button on it. My mouth dropped at her cruel game. She responded with a screeching laugh and ran back into her room next door.

I giggled at her theatrics and resumed my cleaning. I bent over to grab my book bag by its straps and attempted to toss it the few feet onto the edge of my bed, but watched on in dismay as it slowly tilted and fell upside down onto the floor. "No!" I called out, my outreached hands freezing in defeat.

I sighed and shook my head at my own mess. I let my heavy knees land on the floor with a loud thud and lifted my empty book bag up, the last objects falling out to join the pile on the floor. Slowly, one straggler fluttered down and landed daintily on top of the mountain of paperwork. I quickly recognized the small piece of paper by its discoloration. I picked off the notecard and held it in my hands, straining to read his handwriting.

 _Saturday_

 _10120 N 132_ _nd_ _St._

 _Shake some of your nerd cred._

I copped up an eyebrow in intrigue as I reread the note. Apart from the subtle insult, Anthony had a point. While I appreciate Taylor for bringing me into the scholastic decathlon team and Troy for wanting me to help him in Biology, I'm so much more than my GPA. I want people to know me as more than just the freaky genius kid. Anthony's friend's party could give me the opportunity to forge my reputation into what _I_ want to be known for, not what others assumed of me.

I glanced at my alarm clock and found the time was already 7pm. The party would start soon, I imagined. I went to my closet and removed a pair of denim shorts and a yellow polo that had shrunken in the wash a few times that it showed my midriff.

I was careful not to encounter either of my parents as I ran out to the door, yelling, "Going to Taylor's!" over my shoulder.

The sun was in its last stages of descent as it painted the sky in strokes orange from the West. Only my shadow accompanied me on the walk just a few blocks into another neighborhood, one that greatly resembled my own with its suburban conformist aesthetic. I found a house on the other side of the street with the numbers 10120. As I crossed, a familiar ache in my abdomen began painfully twisting at my stomach. I ignored it.

I shouldn't have.

I walked up the few steps onto the porch and reached my fist out to knock on the door, when the door suddenly opened by itself. A red-haired girl, laughing to a friend behind her, nearly walked into me before noticing my presence. She jumped back and yelped, "Oh!"

"I'm sorry," I murmured.

She peered her green, snake-like eyes at me expectantly before rolling them and snapping, "So what is it? Are you selling Girl Scout cookies or something?"

"No," I barely heard myself, "I'm here for the party."

"The party!" she laughed along with her friend.

"Yeah, Anthony invited me."

They quickly fell silent. Her narrowed eyes scanned me up and down. "Is that so? Well then, you can come in." She extended her arm on the door to push it open. "He's in the basement with the others."

"Thanks," I said, walking by them as their eyes burned my skin.

I heard some music playing from just around a wall and followed it, discovering a staircase leading to the basement. I descended into a dark room filled mainly with guys all sporting similar looks with tight pants and long, shaggy hair.

"Holy shit," Anthony approached me with his mouth agape. "You actually came. I can't believe it."

"Why not? You invited me after all."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you'd actually show. I'm actually impressed, Montez. I didn't think you could go anywhere without your nerd troop, or that douchy jock."

"Troy isn't a douche."

"C'mon, Gabriella. Wake up. All jocks are douchebags."

"I'm sure many people say the same thing about skaters."

His tone suddenly turned defensive, "Yeah? Well they don't know shit." With that, he stomped away and disappeared into his group of friends.

To my left against the stairs sat a table with a variety of drinks and snacks. Bags of pretzels and potato chips were propped up against the gigantic bowl of punch. I grabbed the sticky handle of the ladle and served myself a full solo cup. I brought the plastic cup to my lips and took a full swig. It tasted slightly better than how I imagine nail polish remover would taste. I wanted to spit it back out. The juice had turned, I thought.

Anthony appeared at my side and asked, "How's the punch?"

"It's good!" I responded, not wanting to seem rude.

"Good, drink up!" He responded, pouring another red solo cup full and passing it off to me.

After about twenty minutes, the punch stopped tasting funny, but my tongue felt heavy in my mouth. I was in the same spot next to the snack table, scrolling through short stories on my phone when I noticed my eyes couldn't focus properly. The words on the screen would suddenly blur without notice like my eyes couldn't keep their focus. I kept my phone tightly gripped in my hand, but it seemed like it was spinning. I dropped my solo cup on the table and looked around the room, feeling like I was in slow motion.

Anthony approached me and asked, "Enjoying your punch?"

I slowly turned my head towards him, trying to focus on his spinning beanie. "Iss therre some thing in it?" I slurred.

"Definitely!" Anthony laughed. "About two bottles of vodka!"

I cried out, "What?"

"You mean you couldn't taste it?" He stepped over a napkin on the floor to close the space between us. I could feel the warmth radiating off his body, and a sudden nausea came over me.

"I need to go home," I said, turning around the corner and beginning to walk up the steps when I felt a hand on the small of my back. I froze.

Anthony ordered, "Keep walking." I looked back down into the room for someone else, but no one noticed me. "Go," Anthony put pressure on me until I had to keep moving. I tripped over the last step and stumbled onto the floor. Anthony bent over and began pulling me up by my waist. "You can't go home like this," he said and I felt my breathing instinctively quicken in fear.

"I wwant to ggo hoome," I clumsily stumbled towards the front door, the floor swaying underneath me as though I were on a boat.

"You need medicine," he pulled me further into the house by my wrist.

"I wwant to ggo hoome," I pulled back.

"Come with me, we'll get you some medicine to help you straighten up." His grip tightened.

I yelled, "I wwant to ggo hoome!"

He yanked me by my wrist towards him, but I resisted and kept my feet pushing me back against the hardwood floor towards the door. He lifted me and I flailed my limbs and desperately clawed for the walls for something to grab onto. My nails chipping against every bump and crevasse in the stucco.

"Help!" I cried out in peril.

He put one hand over my mouth and held my arms down with the other. I wildly kicked his shins and at the walls of the hallway, but he kept us headed directly for the door at the end. I tried to get my feet up on either side of the frame, but couldn't manage the maneuver in my inebriated state.

My eyes were swelling and a sense of terror overcame me once the door opened and saw a bed.

…

The sun had completely deserted me by the time I left the house. I began my trek through the dark, seemingly vacant neighborhood. I had to have been dreaming, I thought. This reality could not exist. In fact, it did not exist. I rejected the thought that what had just happened to me in that house was real. Nobody would be so evil, so possessed. I had to be dreaming. The alternative was too tragic to consider.

I cut through the long grass of the front yard to my house, the droplets of dew atop the long grass licking at my ankles. I found the stepping-stones and let them lead me until I stumbled towards the door. I had taken a few attempts to enter my key, when it suddenly turned on its own and opened.

My mother, with a sleeping toddler on her hip, put her index finger vertically on her lips. I entered so she could secure the door close behind me and set off for the kitchen. I opened a drawer and quietly plucked through the pill bottles. I found the painkillers and swallowed three tablets dry. I went upstairs to my room and stripped off all my clothes. I buried my bloody underwear in the bottom of my hamper and replaced it with a fresh pair and a pad.

…

 _January 14_ _th_ _, 2018_

I didn't sleep at all last night. I lied on top of my sheets and stared ahead blankly at the glow in the dark stars stuck on my ceiling. I remained fixated on the pale green specks for hours as the alcohol gradually wore off. By morning, I had the sobering realization that none of that was a dream. That what Anthony did to me was real.

He raped me.

Tears leaked out of the side of my eyes and rolled into my hair. I tried to block it out, to think about nothing, but the pain reminded me of everything. My wrists still ached from the tight grip he had on them. The ripping sensation I still felt below the belt was inexplicable. Each ache, scratch, and tear was a testament to what he had done.

I tried to drag myself to sit upright on my bed, but it was too painful. So I carefully lifted my pillow to elevate my head and silently watched as the rising sun outside gradually illuminated my room. I listened to the sounds of the house, the pipes turning on, my father waking up Isabella next door, my mother's footsteps as she walked downstairs. I could hear from the clanks of pans that she was making breakfast. When the smell finally reached my room, I became nauseous.

Abruptly, a quiet, high voice spoke from the other side of my door, "Gabby!" I heard Isabella's soft hands patting the door between us. "Gabby, wakey!"

I stayed in my bed, holding a hand over my abdomen. My father murmured something inaudible to Isabella, and then spoke through the door, "Gabriella, honey? Why don't you come down for breakfast?"

"I…" I started, my voice shaking against my dry throat. "I'm sleeping in."

I heard him sigh, "Alright." He explained to Isabella, "Sissy is sleeping."

"Sissy no sleep," she argued, resuming her pats on my door. "Gabby wakey!"

I held my hand over my mouth to silence myself as I began to cry.

"C'mon, Isabella. Let Gabby sleep. We eat breakfast." I heard my father take Isabella away.

I sniffled and wiped the few escaped tears from my cheeks. I pulled my pillow out from beneath my shoulders and up to my head to lie flat. There I remained for hours, staring off at the plastic stars again as the occasional tears dripped from my eyes.

…

I can't remember when I finally fell asleep, but I must have because soon after, my family was loudly gathered on the other side of my door.

"Gabriella!" My mother yelled. "You need to leave your room at least once today!"

My father spoke up, "Come with us to the park, dear! It'll be fun."

"Gabby!" Isabella chanted.

"Go away," I responded.

My father huffed, "Gabriella…Look, may we come in?"

I sighed, "I guess."

He opened the door and the three of them filed in. Isabella approached the side of my bed and smiled at me. I stared into her happy, naïve eyes and the image of her innocence overcame me. I was on the verge of tears yet again.

"Gabriella," my mother said, "You need to come with us."

"Mom," I groaned, putting my hand just beneath my stomach.

"Oh," She nodded, loudly whispering, "That time of the month?"

My father dramatically cupped his hands over his ears, "I don't want to hear it! I don't want to hear about it, girls!" He shook his head in disgust as he left the room.

I asked my mother, "Can you bring me some pain killers?"

"Sure," She picked Isabella up onto her hip and departed the room. When they came back with some pills and water, she informed me that they'd be at the local park for the next few hours. After a quick peck on my forehead from Isabella, they left.

It didn't take long for the loneliness to overwhelm me. I wished I could go be with my family today, but I simply couldn't. I was in mourning. Mourning of my body, my happiness, my virginity.

…

It was about an hour later as I was still engulfed in pain and the accompanied thoughts when I heard a distinct buzzing from across the room. As carefully as I could, I dragged my feet over my bed and sat up, but quickly jumped off the bed as though I had sat on something sharp. I approached my hamper and picked up my shorts from last night, locating my cell phone in the back pocket.

 ** _Troy_** _: Hey Gabby! Sorry I haven't messaged you yet today. Can I come over to study now?_

Shit. Troy and I agreed on Friday to meet up today.

 _I'm sorry, you can't come over,_ I responded. _I'm sick._

 _ **Troy**_ _: Bummer! I can lend you my book before homeroom if you'll be in school tomorrow._

I left Troy's message unanswered as my heart sunk down to my stomach. I would have to attend school tomorrow, with the possibility of running into Anthony all day long. I fell sideways on my bed and tried for hours to fall asleep until it eventually found me.

* * *

 **A/N: I understand that it might be difficult or uncomfortable to read a story with this kind of subject matter, but please don't let that discourage you from finishing the story. Take a break if you need to, but please continue reading. She will have a lot to work through, but I promise she's not damaged completely beyond repair. This story is ultimately about overcoming adversity and finding the courage to do so. There will be a light at the end of the tunnel.**


	10. Inexplicable

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **10\. Inexplicable**

 _January 15_ _th_ _, 2018_

I woke up at 5:15am, an hour and forty-five minutes before my mother would typically wake me. I pushed myself up off the bed and headed across the hallway to the bathroom. I winced away from the bright, fluorescent bulbs and slowly bent over to remove a pad from a box beneath the sink. I pulled my underwear down and sat on the toilet. It felt like someone had a flame on me from where I peed. I was afraid to look down, but I breathed and reminded myself that I would need to eventually. When I did, I found a large mark of blood in my pad. I ripped the pad from my underwear and threw it away before stripping the rest of my clothes off.

I got into the shower and washed my hair first. I gently guided the soap over my bruised arms and swollen wrists. I closed my eyes and braced my hand on the cold tile wall as I washed the blood away from my privates, afraid to see what damage could be there. It was a combination of the pain and sorrow that sent tears down my cheeks until they merged with the falling water from the showerhead. Unable to endure it any more, I lied on the shower floor and let the water rain over my body.

When I got back to my room, I stood in front of the mirror and dropped the towel onto the floor. There I saw the bruises lining my arms and hips, and the dense cluster of them around my neck. I went to my nightstand to grab my phone and returned to take photos of the evidence. I found a long sleeved shirt and a light scarf to hide the marks. I lied on my side on the bed with my knees brought into my chest as I quietly wept. I felt broken, pathetic even. Only the occasional sob escaping from my mouth to be heard in the otherwise silent house. I cried myself to sleep again, until my mother woke me up for school.

"Gabriella!" She knocked on the door. "Wake up! It's time for school!"

My breath caught in my throat and tears immediately formed in my eyes. I soon resumed breathing, but it was heavy and erratic. Using my every muscle, my body started to involuntarily rattle with fear.

"Gabriella?" She opened my door, finding me in a near panic attack. "What's wrong?" She ran to me and dropped down beside my bed.

I heaved, "My stomach."

"You're so pale. We have to get you to the hospital!" She ran out of my room and called for my dad.

He followed my mom into my room and spoke to me, "Can you walk?"

I nodded, my breathing returning to normal, but keeping my hands on my stomach to follow through with the act. My father held onto my forearm for support as I rose onto my feet. Mom said, "David." She approached me, taking ahold of my other arm. "Take Isabella to day care and go to work, I will take Gabriella to the hospital. I'll call you when they find something."

My father stood still, a look of indecision on his features. He reluctantly obliged, "Alright." He rushed off to find Isabella, leaving my mother and I alone in the room.

"Move as slowly as you need to," I balled up the front of my shirt in my clammy hand and hunched over as we walked.

…

When we pulled into the emergency room parking lot, a nurse rushed over to us with a wheel chair. I forced myself into it and let the nurse wheel me through the doors and into a private room, my mother trailing behind us. A man in mint green scrubs and a greying head of hair entered the room next. He set down a folded piece of cloth and introduced himself, "Hello, Gabriella. My name is Doctor Martin. When I leave the room, I'd like you to strip and dress in this gown. The ties go on your back. Do you understand?"

"It's just my stomach," I said.

"I understand that," He said, picking up a clipboard from the counter and beginning to exit. "We still need you to dress in the gown."

"I-" The door between us fell shut as he exited before I could state my argument. I paced the room, stuck in indecision. I weighed my options, knowing that if dressed in that gown I'd be questioned about the marks on my arms and neck. Keeping my clothes on, I took my place in the patient's chair again.

The doctor looked irritated when he opened the door and saw me in my normal clothes. "Why aren't you in the gown?" He asked. Mom entered the room and shot me a confused glance.

I stammered, "I- I feel better."

Mom asked me incredulously, "You feel better?"

"Yes, no. Well, I don't know."

The doctor murmured something under his breath before shaking his head disapprovingly and leaving. Mom snapped, "You don't know? Gabriella Montez, you tell me what is going on right this instant!"

"Nothing is going on," I nervously laughed.

"You were shaking on your bed this morning, we get to the hospital and suddenly you're cured? You owe me an explanation!"

"I-" I opened my mouth to speak, but quickly soon after dropped my head in defeat when no excuse came.

She said, "This is a waste of my time. I need to take you to school."

"No!" I got off of the bed and found myself retreating into a corner of the room, my hands held out in front of me defensively.

"No?" My mother's ferocious eyes zeroed in on me. "What do you mean no? Was all of this a ploy to get out of school?"

"No, I just…I can't go. Not today. Mom, please. I'm begging." I approached her, my hands folded in front of me as I pleaded, "Just let me have this day off. I can't tell you how much I need it. Please. Please!"

She looked down at me, snarling in disgust. "I can't believe this. You have today and I mean _only_ today to pull yourself together. You are going to school tomorrow."

…

The air inside the van was thickened by the tension and animosity. It was painfully silent, just the occasional honk and screech from the road outside our windows to be heard. I craved to be reunited with the solitary and safe confines of my room. I jumped when she finally spoke, "So...nothing?"

I looked at her questioningly.

"You have nothing to say? No reasons? I'm getting nothing out of you?"

My lips quivered from underneath her disappointed tone. "I'm sorry."

"If this is just some stupid boy thing…"

I turned my head to look out my window as tears began falling onto my cheeks.

"Is that it?" She said, and I imagined she was rolling her eyes. "Huh?" She scoffed.

I didn't answer. Instead, I had to bring my hand up to my mouth and bite down on the end of my shirt's sleeve to muffle my cries.

When we finally rolled into the garage, she exited the car and aggressively slammed the door shut behind her. I exited the vehicle and left enough space between us as I followed her up the steps and into the house. She forcefully flung her keys onto the kitchen island and whipped her purse onto a barstool. She suddenly spun towards me and spat, "You go to your room and think about what you need to do to be ready for school tomorrow. I am going to work. Do not leave the house. Do you understand me?"

I sheepishly spoke, "Yes."

She gathered her items and with one final warning glance over her shoulder, she left. I felt my heart nearly instantaneously crumble inside my chest the moment the door shut. The weight of her shame and the physical exhaustion I was already enduring were proving too much for me to bear. With my legs shaking, I carried myself up the stairs and into my bedroom. I collapsed onto my bed and cried until I fell asleep again.

…

The garage door opening beneath my room shook me awake around five in the evening. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and pushed myself off the bed and approached my backpack. My fingers weeded through the outermost pocket until I felt my phone. Checking my missed messages, I read:

 _7:31am_ **_Troy_** _: Hey, did you need to see the book now? I'm at the gym entrance._

 _7:58am_ _ **Troy**_ _: I'm going to assume since you didn't respond that you're sleeping off some nasty cold or something. I hope you feel better soon._

 _9:17am_ _ **Troy**_ _: I know you're not feeling well, but I can bring you the Biology homework if you feel up to starting it, he's assigning a lot!_

 _12:04pm_ _ **Taylor**_ _: Are you coming to lunch?_

I responded to Troy's messages: _Thanks, but I'm not going to do the homework. I'll be there tomorrow though._

"Gabriella," I jumped to find my father standing in my doorway, a hand on his hip. "Your mother told me what happened in the emergency room today. We need to have a talk."

I sighed, "I think mom's already yelled at me enough for the both of you."

He shook his head. "I won't yell at you, honey." He stepped off the doorframe into my room. "When something concerning like this happens, we should talk about it."

"Okay," I said.

"No matter what interpersonal issues you're facing, you still need to show up. This is true for school and your future professional life. You need to go to school tomorrow. Consider this a lesson in perseverance. Alright?"

"Okay."

"Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"I'm okay," I said, just the thought of eating turning my empty stomach.

My father nodded, "Well, you know my rules about eating together, but I'll see if I can sneak you something given the situation between you and your mom."

He left my room, and as the door between he and I shut, I felt a piece of the miniscule chunk that is left of my heart chip away. I held my hand up to my chest and silently wept until I heard another buzz. I picked my phone up from my bed and read:

 ** _Troy_** _: I'm jealous. I wish my grade was high enough that I could afford a 0 on an assignment like you. ;P_

I crawled onto my bed and held my knees into my chest as I lied on my side. I remained there, fixated on the flashing colon of my alarm clock on the dresser. About an hour later, I heard someone quietly tapping their fingertips on my door. I lifted myself off the bed and cautiously approached the door. "Hello?"

The arrhythmic taps continued. I opened the door expecting to see my father, but saw no one until I looked down. There in her purple pajamas, Isabelle proudly lifted a small paper plate of pot roast, potatoes, and carrots above her head. I took it from her and forced the tears forming in my eyes to stay in their place. She brought her little index finger up to her lips and quietly shushed me, then galloped to her room. I took the miniature dinner to my bed and forced myself to take a few bites, aware that it had been over a day since I last ate. After gagging on the last scoopful, I put the rest in my trashcan.

* * *

 _January 16_ _th_ _, 2018_

I woke with a violent gasp as my body jerked itself upright after a loud pounding sounded at my door. "It's time for school!" I could feel my mother's seething wrath through the wall, the heat radiating off of her like a powerful blaze. Her heavy footsteps could be heard stomping on each step as she retreated down the stairs. In order to hide the remaining patches of discoloration on my skin, I dressed in a modest beige turtleneck sweater and a pair of blue jeans. I skipped my make up routine, grabbed my book bag by one of its straps and headed to the dining room for breakfast.

My mother asked me in greeting, "Eggs?"

"Sure," I quietly responded.

She served me a scoopful of scrambled eggs and handed me the plate. I took it over to the table when I heard her speak up, "What do you say?"

I looked towards my father, who only uncomfortably dropped his gaze back to the newspaper. "Thanks." I sat in my chair and used my fork to pick through the eggs for the entire meal as only the news from the TV in the den could be heard.

My act could only go on for so long before my mother snatched the full plate away from me and ordered, "Get in the van."

I picked my backpack up from the kitchen floor and walked to the garage door.

The entire car ride was silent, and I was surprised by how I could keep myself composed during it. It wasn't until I saw the school that I tensed up in my seat. I hummed a flat note to myself to cope with the pain in my gut as our car inched forward towards the front doors. I spotted the scholastic decathlon group and felt some relief, but we kept moving forward along the curb where I noticed the group of skaters.

I whipped my head down towards the console as my breathing became increasingly volatile.

"Get out," My mother said, unlocking the doors.

"Mom, please! I can't!"

"You are _not_ pulling this crap on me again! Get out of the van, now!"

"Mom…"

She yelled, "I said now!"

With my lip quivering and tears streaming down my cheeks, I reached for the handle and popped my door open. I backed up onto the sidewalk and watched as my mother drove off, abandoning me. I dropped my head low and kept my eyes fixated on my feet as they quickly alternated atop the concrete and through the front doors.

The entire time Mrs. Darbus was lecturing on the upcoming play, my eyes were glossed over as I sat curled up in the back of my mind. It was dark in there, only a sliver of white light shining into the space. It was cold, too. I could see my breath rolling out of my mouth and rising into the air. Existing there felt like a punishment, like when a naughty kid is told to sit in the corner. It felt shameful and lonely. I wondered, _why me? What have I done to deserve this?_

When the bell rang and my fellow classmates bottlenecked at the door, I instead approached Mrs. Darbus at her desk. "Mrs. Darbus?" I asked her.

"Yes, Miss. Montez?" She flung her turquoise wrap over her large chest.

"How did you decide that you wanted to be a drama teacher?"

She smiled to herself before shaking her head, "I'm afraid that's far too long of a story. I'll save it for another time if you're truly interested. You should be heading to your first class. The bell will ring soon. Go on, now."

My polite smile was faltering as she ushered me out the door. I kept my head down and moved quickly through the hallways to the biology room. I was in such a rush that I didn't notice Mr. Brannigan at the front of the room until he was yelling after me, "Miss. Montez, I suggest you come get a quiz from me so you can get more than a zero."

I pivoted back to him and took a sheet of paper, and then took my seat at the table next to Troy.

"Alright, listen up!" Mr. Brannigan yelled over the class. "You will have half an hour to complete the quiz. Afterwards, you will remain silent and wait for the rest of the class to finish. No cell phones, but you may read once you're done. Any questions? …Begin."

We all flipped our quizzes over and I tried to get started. I could see Mr. Brannigan pacing in front of my table out of the corner of my eye. I kept my thumping heart constrained in my chest and practiced even breathing. He continued to hover over me like a hawk circling over its prey for the whole ten minutes it took me to complete the quiz.

When I was done, I flipped the page back over and placed it flat in the corner on my side of the table. Mr. Brannigan swooped down for the kill, picking up my quiz and taking it back to his desk at the front of the room. I brought out my book and laid it on the table to appear like I was reading, but I couldn't concentrate. My eyes scanned over the words at their typical pace, but nothing was sinking in. I couldn't register any meaning. I got to the end of the page before I realized that I didn't know what the whole last two pages were about.

I felt misplaced in my own mind. Reading used to be part of my identity, but now I can't do that. All I was anymore was tired and bruised and scared. None of the happiness could be salvaged from my life _before_ , I feared. I couldn't even look at my family without wanting to cry. I had been ruined.

This realization sank in like an anchor ripping straight through to the bottom of my heart just as Mr. Brannigan started his lecture. I couldn't hear anything he said. His lecture became inaudible background noise to my primary concentration of keeping myself from crying.

When the bell rang, I carelessly threw my blank notebook into my book bag and pulled its straps over my shoulder.

"Gabriella." Troy called out after me. "Hey, wait up!"

I suddenly stopped in the hallway and impatiently said, "What?"

He shot me a confused glance before shaking it off and asking, "When do you want to meet up to study?"

"I don't know," I started to walk away.

"I have practice after school," he said, trailing after me. "So is it okay if we meet up later?"

"Troy!" I snapped, abruptly spinning back around to him and yelling in his face, "I said I don't know!"

"Jeez," He held his palms up by his shoulder defensively and backed away, "Alright. Sorry I asked!" He spun around and quickly fled away from me.

I remained frozen in that spot, horrified at myself for how I just treated Troy. A wave of shame washed over me and I felt a pressure behind my eyes as tears began forming again. I dropped my head in remorse and trekked through the busy hallways to my next class.

…

I went to the library during lunch, effectively barricading myself with bookshelves. I sat on the floor with my back leaning against the end of one, and opened a book to stare at as I spaced out. After a couple minutes, I heard a buzz from my book bag and removed my phone.

 ** _Taylor_** _: Hey, are you at school today? We're having a pre-meeting during lunch about the official meeting after school today. Let me know if you will make either._

I threw my head back against the bookshelf in defeat and typed back, _I'm on my way._

My stomach uncomfortably sunk in my abdomen when I approached the courtyard. I stuck close to the walls as I made my way down to the table, attempting to stay away from wherever Anthony could be. I took my seat and heard Taylor say something to me, but was too focused on anxiously checking my surroundings to hear what was said.

She said, "Gabriella?"

"Yeah?" I responded.

"Did you hear me?"

"Um, no. I'm sorry, what?"

She shot me a quizzical glance, "Do you want us to wait for you to get lunch before we start?"

"No, that's okay. I'm not hungry. Please, go ahead."

"Alright," She nodded, addressing the group. "We have regionals fast approaching. We need to make sure that each member of the team is prepared for any possible problems they could ask." Taylor continued as I kept eyeing around my surroundings. "After all, we are only as strong as our weakest link. I propose that within the next few weeks, we find additional times…" Her words slowly silenced and the rest of the world faded to black as my eyes centered in on the figure just above us on the balcony. Anthony sat on the railing as he casually scanned the courtyard below until an angered teacher yelled at him to get down. While the two were in the heat of an argument, I took my opportunity to escape.

I grabbed my book bag and started to leave, when I someone's fingers drag across my forearm. I jumped away as though it had burned me. "Gabriella?" Taylor asked, her eyes wide with concern, "Are you okay?"

"I have to go."

"Wh- Where are you going? We're just getting started."

"The library."

"The library?" She questioned me, but I kept walking away. "Gabriella! Wait!" She called after me as I scurried through the doors and into the hallway. I found the nearest girls' bathroom and dropped my bag beneath the sink before running cool water from the tap. I looked at the disheveled, terrified girl in the mirror, her skin nearly matching the porcelain sink. I rinsed off my shaking hands before cupping them and dipping my face into the little pool I held. I turned the faucet off and remained there, leaned over the sink until my breathing normalized.

I put my hand underneath my face to catch the dropping water particles while they fell as I stood up straight. Only then did I turn to my side and find that someone was there with me.

"Is everything okay?" Taylor asked.

I scoffed, "Does anything about how I'm acting seem okay to you?" I heard my tone and winced. "No! I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

"You seem very stressed."

I brought my damp, cold hands up to the rub the back of my neck. "You could say that."

"Is it…school?" She guessed.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Do you want me to take you up to the counselor's office?" She offered.

I snapped, "I said I don't want to talk about it!" I recoiled at the sound of my own voice, dropping my head in embarrassment. "You should go."

"I want to make sure you're alright first."

"What I meant is _please_ go."

"Well…If you ever wan-"

I cut her off, "I know, now leave."

I watched on as Taylor hesitantly left the bathroom, a familiar sadness washing over me at the sight of her departing figure. When the bell rang, I cursed under my breath and went out into the hallway. I was cowering as I walked, terrified that Anthony would be just around any corner. I sat down in my next class and quickly thought to text my mother; _I'm staying after school for a scholastic decathlon meeting._

I lingered in my last class for about ten minutes before seeking out the room for the scholastic decathlon meeting. I could hear Taylor's delegating from the hallway and entered.

"-which is why…Oh!" She blinked her eyes as she looked at me. "I didn't think you'd make it." She paused, "We're glad to have it."

"Thanks," I took a seat with the others as Taylor continued her instructions.

…

All I wanted to do when I got home was sleep. So I carried my weary body through the house and up the stairs until I could gracefully fall into the blissfulness of a well-earned nap. It wasn't until my father called me for dinner that I woke up. I came downstairs to join them today, but spent more time lazily chasing after my peas with a fork than actually eating. At the end of it, I was still seated at the table between my father and Isabella as my mom was clearing plates when I said, "We need to talk."

"Sure, sweetheart," My father said. "We want you to talk to us. Tell us what's going on."

"Mom, dad…I want to leave East High."

"What?" He asked. "Why would you want to do that?"

"Because I- I just need to, okay?"

My mother said, "You're not leaving East High."

"Why not? We're only in the second week of the semester. I can catch up easily at West High."

"I don't want to have to drive halfway across Albuquerque every morning and afternoon to get you."

"I'll be driving myself in a year."

"I said no, Gabriella!"

My father butted in. "Honey, tell us more about what's going on at East High and maybe we can fix it."

My mother declared, "I'm not hearing any of her excuses." She then abandoned the sink full of dishes and went into the den.

I turned to my father and held my folded hands up in front of me while I begged, "Please, dad. Would you drive me?"

"I work way out by the airport."

"Dad-" I whined.

"Just stick it out a little bit longer. We'll talk about it another time."

* * *

 **A/N: Do you think Mrs. Montez' harsh parenting prevents her from noticing Gabriella's issues? Do you think Gabriella will ever tell anyone else what happened?**


	11. Promise Me Something

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **11\. Promise Me Something**

 _January 17_ _th_ _, 2018_

 _I nibbled at the inside of my cheek as I considered the question on the paper in front of me. Mr. Brannigan's tie-dye lab coat was swaying behind him as he paced in front of my table, looking for the slightest twitch in my eye to declare me a cheater once and for all. I remained composed, minding my own work and keeping my eyes centered on the paper. When suddenly, the bell triggered a swell of groans and heavy sighs from the class._

 _Troy stood and asked Mr. Brannigan, "Could I stay late to finish my quiz? I didn't have enough time."_

 _Mr. Brannigan addressed the whole class, "Pencils down, everyone! The test is due this instant. Anyone continuing to work on their quiz will receive a zero!"_

 _Troy shook his head and handed his quiz off to the tyrant. He was putting his pencil back in his backpack when he spoke to me, "I bet you didn't sweat that at all, huh?"_

 _I replied, "Not really."_

 _He smiled. "I envy you."_

 _He shouldn't._

 _"_ _I'll talk to you outside, okay?" I exited the room and waited by a row of lockers for Troy to exit. Once he did, we discussed times to meet and share the book that evening. I was in the middle of describing my scholastic decathlon schedule when an unwelcome face popped up behind Troy, silencing me immediately._

 _It was Anthony who appeared over Troy's shoulder, taunting me with a cheeky grin and wave. He suddenly ducked behind him while I froze, terrified to finally see cross him school._

 _Troy glanced over his shoulder before looking back towards wearing a perplexed expression, "What were you looking at?"_

 _"_ _No one- I mean, nothing."_

 _"_ _Are you okay?"_

 _"_ _Yeah," I nodded, "I'm fine."_

 _"_ _Seriously Gabriella," Troy insisted, "Are you okay? I'm worried about you."_

 _"_ _Thank you, Troy. I just…I'm fine, really. But thank you again. I'll text you later about a time to meet up."_

 _"_ _Great," The side of Troy's lip twitched up to form a lopsided smirk. "Thanks."_

 _I continued my way through the loud, crowded hallway. I was maneuvering between the bodies just fine, until a deceptively strong girl shoulder checked me, sending me onto the ground._

 _I lied on the linoleum tile, reaching my hand out for my book bag when I realized it had disappeared. Not only did my book bag, but the rest of the countless students I shared the hallway with were gone, too. Not a single person remained._

 _I was looking down the long hallway to its dark end when someone's hands slapped down onto the tile on either side of me. I looked up to the figure above me and found Anthony's depraved, vacant eyes. His words gurgled in his mouth as he spoke something incomprehensible._

 _Three distinct bangs sounded from the dark end of the hallway, and we looked towards them. Three more sounded and I heard the voice, "Gabriella!" It called. A glowing, spherical shape appeared at the end of the hallway and illuminated the lockers around it. "Gabriella!" The light intensified until it obscured my vision entirely._

"Gabriella!" I felt the soft mattress beneath me and veered my head away from the sun shining directly into my eyes.

Three bangs sounded from my door. "Gabriella!" My mother was yelling.

I sat up on my bed, still shaken from the nightmare.

"Gabriella?" She called out.

"Mom," I dove off of my bed and ran over to the door, swinging it open and stumbling out into the hallway. "Please," I begged, "please don't make me go."

"Gabriella Montez," she growled, "you are going to school! I will not hear another word of it."

I closed my clammy hands over hers. "Mom, please, you need to listen to me!"

"I'm not hearing any more of your excuses!" She jerked her hands away and stomped down the stairs.

I turned to the wall and leaned my sweating forehead against it, bracing myself as my gut began cramping up in an all too familiar constriction. I felt completely doomed; there was no hope that I'd convince anyone to let me stay home today. I could tie myself to my bed, but my mother would just drag us both into her van. I slowly pushed myself off the wall and went into my room, a hand pressed against my abdomen.

I made my way over to the closet and held back tears as I searched for something that'd conceal the remaining marks. I settled on an old button up, long sleeved shirt and jeans. I found my scarf next to my book bag and wrapped it around my neck.

The car ride was quiet, but I could feel her preparing to speak. Finally once we turned the corner into the line of cars at the front of the school she said, "I don't know where I went wrong."

I didn't respond. She kept murmuring to herself and shaking her head disapprovingly while we slowly inched towards the drop off. The pain in my gut was becoming unbearable and I held my breath against the awful sensation.

"Get out, Gabriella." My mother quietly spoke. I felt a couple warm tears tickle down my face as I turned to look her in her enraged brown eyes. "Now," She said.

I gripped the handle and pulled it open, using it for support as I stepped on to the curb. I took one final look into my mother's narrowed eyes before shutting the door. I turned around and with more tears leaking out, began walking towards the front doors.

"Gabriella!" I heard Taylor's voice yell out, but I remained resolved in my direction. "Gabriella!" She repeated, and I heard the loud wheels on her backpack quickly nearing. "Gabriella, are you okay?" She joined my side.

"I can't talk to you right now," I sniffled.

"Are yo-"

"Yes, I'm sure."

She stopped at the doors as I went through them alone.

…

Mrs. Darbus didn't notice that I hung my head down her entire lecture, but I supposed she's used to people sleeping in her class. I, however, was trying to hide my leaking eyes and muffle my sniffles.

I crossed my arms over my chest to take up as little space as possible as I walked through the hallways to biology. Once inside, I silently took my seat next to Troy as he was twisted around his chair to talk to someone behind us. I was unsure if he was doing that to avoid speaking to me after I snapped at him yesterday, or if that was reading too much into it. Regardless, I kept my hands in my lap next to my aching stomach and blankly spaced out.

I noticed when Troy eventually turned back around in his seat and silently sat, waiting for class to start. Usually we'd be talking, but this was different. I was different. I had become someone who preferred to hide away and cry, and someone who snapped at their friends. This was me _after_ , a version of myself that I couldn't blame Troy for rejecting.

Sitting there as Mr. Brannigan started his lecture, I realized nothing would be the same. Not my relationship with my family, or my friendships, or my body. I had my identity stolen from me, and I was unsure if I could ever get it back. The truth is, there was no going back. What happened to me could not be undone. I was raped and I must live with its effects for the rest of my life.

"Do you need to leave?" It took me a moment to realize that Mr. Brannigan was addressing me, and feel the wet streaks of tears dripping down my face.

"No," I softly replied, wiping away the tears. I dropped my wet hands into my lap and looked down at them sadly.

Mr. Brannigan awkwardly mumbled, "Alright then," before continuing his lecture.

…

I decided not to risk seeing Anthony at lunch again and stuck to the library instead, messaging Taylor, _I'm behind on a social studies paper so I'll be working on it in the library during lunch._ I was mindlessly flipping through my novel without retaining any information when I heard the familiar sound of someone's rolling backpack. I kept my book open, but peered my eyes up at Taylor as she settled in the seat across the table from me. She quietly removed a textbook from her backpack and gently placed it on the table, her eyes suddenly glancing up to meet mine.

"I thought you might want some company," she explained, "but I'll leave if you want me to."

"You can stay," I said. I quickly added on, "thank you."

She gave me a small smile as she slid the cap of her pen onto its back and began working. We had a few moments of uninterrupted silence, until we heard some guys speaking on the other side of the bookcase behind me. "No, man. We're in the wrong section."

"No, we're not. It goes by author's name first."

"No, it goes by subject first and _then_ author."

"Gentlemen," A grey-haired librarian approached them, "If there is something I can help you find, please allow me to and keep your voices at a low level."

"I'm sorry, we're looking for a book on Napoleon for a project in our history class."

"History is on the other side." The librarian led them around the bookcase to our side and I glanced at the boys, discovering them to be Troy and Chad. When Troy and I locked eyes, he stayed at the end of the bookshelves while Chad and the librarian worked behind me to find the book.

As they were walking away, Taylor surprised me. "H- Hey Chad," she said, putting her elbow on the table and placing her chin into her hand.

"Oh, hey Taylor," Chad responded, "and Gabriella."

I twisted around in my seat to nod my head at him in acknowledgement.

"What are you guys working on?" He asked.

"Just some scholastic decathlon preparation," Taylor answered.

"Yeah," I said.

"That's cool," he said. "Troy and I just needed to get a book for our class."

"So we heard."

"Yeah, sorry to interrupt." Chad began walking towards Troy.

I twisted back around in my seat to face the table. I decided to take out my phone from my book bag and sifted through the messages Troy and I had exchanged. I was toying with the idea of reaching out to him when I felt a hand land on my shoulder.

"Hello little Gabriella," he spoke, his calloused hand rubbing my shoulder. I was stunned by my fear, unable to muster up even the smallest word of resistance, _no_. "Why don't you say hi?" He gripped the back of my neck.

Taylor said warningly, "It doesn't look like she likes being handled like that, Anthony."

He chuckled and gave me one last squeeze before releasing me. "Whatever," he sauntered away proudly.

I started breathing again as fresh tears fell from my eyes.

"Are you okay?" Taylor asked, reaching her hand out across the table towards me.

"I have to go," I choked out. With tears falling down my cheeks, I grabbed my book bag and departed the library. I heard Taylor shuffling to gather her things, but wasn't bothered to warn her to leave me alone.

I left the library and crossed the hallway into the girl's restroom. I checked that all the stalls were empty as I crossed to the opposite side of the room and jumped up to sit on the window ledge. I waited a few seconds until the door creaked as Taylor ran in urgently. I asked her, "Can you lock the door?"

She nodded, still breathing heavily, and locked the door behind her.

I let a few more tears fall onto my jeans in the silence between us before I spoke, "I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," she said.

"I need you to promise me that after I tell you what happened, you don't tell anyone else. That includes your parents, any teachers, _anyone_. Can you promise me that?"

"I promise," she crossed the tile floor and hopped up to join me on the ledge. She offered out her pinky and I hooked mine around it.

I closed my eyes and breathed as I prepared to speak, to finally voice what happened to me. "I went to a party on Saturday. I accidentally got drunk and Anthony took me upstairs, saying that he had medication for me to take. I didn't believe him. I knew something was wrong." I murmured more to myself, "I always knew something was wrong. He forced me into a bedroom, where he…he…"

"What did he do to you?"

I choked out against my sobs, "He raped me."

"Jesus," Taylor said, raising her voice. "Well, can't we do something? Can't we file a report?"

"I won't…I can't."

"You can't face him again, you mean."

I nodded, wiping my tears.

"So that's why you've been acting so different. God, I'm so, so sorry that happened. I wish I knew something better to say. I wish I could do more than just apologize." She put her arm around me, "I wish I could help more."

"It's not your problem, it's mine. I don't mean to concern you, Taylor. I don't want you to carry this, too. I'm sorry, maybe I shouldn't've said anything."

"No, no. Don't say that. You're not burdening me. I'm glad that you talked to me about it. I'm just saying that I really want to help you more. Is there anything I can do?"

"I don't think so. This is just how it is. I'm never going to be the same again."

"I don't believe that."

"I'm doomed, Taylor. Can't you see that?"

"Gabriella…I will keep my promise and not tell anyone, but might I suggest _you_ speak to someone?"

"No. I don't want this getting out there."

"I mean like a counselor. They can't tell anyone else if you don't want them to. The meetings are completely confidential. I think it'd be good. They'll give you advice on how to cope and help you regain control."

"I don't know."

"I'm not saying you need to enter intensive therapy. I'm just suggesting you make an appointment with a school counselor. That's the first step. If we get to the day and you're uncomfortable with it, nobody can force you to go. Let's just make the appointment. Do you have your school email on your phone? Search for the guidance office and ask for a time to meet."

I took out my phone and did as she instructed, but paused, "Seriously, Taylor…if I don't want to go, you don't push me."

"I won't push you."

"Fine," I agreed. I drafted an email to the guidance office and hovered my finger over the send button.

"Can I push you just to send the email?" Taylor asked.

I briefly smiled before saying, "I can't. Will you do it?" I passed my phone to her.

"Sure," She agreed, hitting the send button.

"Thanks," I sighed heavily.

"It's the least I could do," She leaned her head onto my shoulder and wrapped her arm around me.

"You're a good friend, Taylor." I said, squeezing her hand.

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Do you think Gabriella will go to the counseling session?**


	12. Bury Him

...

Where Courage Ignites

 **12\. Bury Him**

 _January 18_ _th_ _, 2018_

Troy was silent again as we waited for biology class to start this morning. I decided to check my phone and found an email from the guidance office:

 _Hello Gabriella,_

 _Thank you for reaching out to us. We're happy you feel comfortable coming to the guidance office in a time of need. We've reviewed your schedule and would like to meet with you Thursday, January 18_ _th_ _during your open period at 1:10pm. Please reply by 10am tomorrow if you may or may not make it. We will give your slot to someone else if you do not respond._

 _Study hard,_

 _The Guidance Office_

First I messaged Taylor to tell her about the meeting, and then I typed a response and sent it off, my phone making a loud swishing sound as it delivered the email.

"Maybe if some of you spent less time on your phones and more time studying," Mr. Brannigan spoke, slapping my quiz down on my table in front of me, "you could pass your quiz."

I looked at the piece of paper marked _54.3%_ in thick, red ink. I immediately thought it had to be some kind of a mistake, but found a plethora of errors when I inspected the page closer.

I nervously asked Troy, "How did you do?"

"Not so good," he admitted. "My study buddy has been missing in action this whole week. I feel a little lost without her. I sure hope she turns up again soon."

I felt on the verge of tears, not in sorrow (for a change), but in hope. My heart swelled at the idea of meeting with Troy again, and I was overcome with gratitude for my second chance. "I think your study buddy would love to meet with you again. And if she were here, I think she'd want to apologize to you for how she acted towards you."

"Tell her she can make it up to me with more of her mother's brownies," he smirked.

"Deal!" I sincerely smiled and it felt magnificent, if only for a moment.

…

I dreaded my open period, yet it seemed to approach faster than usual given my distaste for it. I found Taylor, a hand draped over the handle of her rolling back pack and the other holding her phone, waiting outside the guidance office for me.

"Hey," I said, trying to stand straight, but my stomachache preventing me from doing so.

"Are you ready?" She asked.

"I don't know, Taylor," I laid my hand over my cramping abdomen. "I don't know if I can do this."

She turned to me and guided me by my shoulders to look at her. "Gabriella," she spoke. "Everything will be okay."

"You don't know that," I diverted my eyes from hers, aiming them towards the tile floor of the hallway.

"Look at me," Taylor said, gently laying her fingers underneath my chin and guiding me to look at her.

I jerked my head away to the side.

She sighed, "I know you can do this. I know that you have the strength within you."

"Where?" I finally looked into her concerned, brown eyes. My voice shook with sadness as I argued, "Do I appear to be someone strong? I have been a wreck this last week, if you haven't noticed."

"Gabri-"

"I am a mess," I interrupted. "I am nothing but scared and hurt and alone."

"You are _not_ alone, Gabriella." Taylor's fingers tightened around my shoulders and she stepped closer, "You are not alone. You have me."

I dropped my head; "You can't go through this for me."

"No, but I will go through this beside you. I will always be there to support you. No matter what happens, I promise."

I nodded and leaned my head back, forcing the tears to stay in my eyes. "I still don't know if I can do this. I'm not strong. I'm not brave. I'm not courageous."

"Of course you are." Taylor rubbed my arm.

"No," I shook my head, "I'm not."

"You have courage within you, Gabriella."

"Where?"

"Here," She said, pushing her finger onto my sternum. "That is where courage ignites. You have a strong heart and I know it will provide you the courage you need when the time comes. You cannot fail with that arsenal of courage. Now please, go into the guidance office and meet with a counselor. Tell them everything." Taylor opened the door for me.

I sheepishly stuck my head inside, spotting a huddle of chairs in the waiting area and a low desk with an old secretary. I felt a gentle, hesitant push on my back and heard the door shut closed behind me. Twiddling my hands behind my back, I slowly approached the secretary's desk. "Umm," I cleared my throat to find my voice.

"What can I do for you, dear?" The old woman said, her gentle eyes peering at me from behind her thick, circular spectacles.

"I'm Gabriella Montez," I said far more evenly than I thought I could. "I scheduled an appointment with a counselor."

"Gabriella Montez," she repeated, her eyes scanning the computer monitor in front of her while she scrolled. I watched on patiently, my eyes focusing on her thinning, gray hair that framed her face. "I found you," she suddenly spoke. "Okay, I have you entered. You'll be meeting with Mrs. Brannigan today."

"Wait, who?"

"Mrs. Brannigan."

"Can I meet with someone else?" I asked, fearing she was the only Mrs. Brannigan, the counselor and mother Anthony spoke of once before.

"No, unfortunately," the woman spoke regrettably. "She's the only counselor we have in this week."

I stiffly turned to take a seat in the waiting chairs, when I heard my name.

"Gabriella?" I turned around to see a middle-aged Asian woman with the skin, hair, and eyes resembling Anthony's. She had her foot placed on the other side of the doorframe to hold her as leaned out of her office.

"Yes," I forced out against my collapsing throat.

"Come on inside," she said, disappearing into her room.

Against my many hesitations, I stepped forward across the carpeted floor into her office. Once I was inside, she sat on the other side of her desk and motioned for me to take my seat. I slowly lowered into the chair and stared at a pile of star-shaped magnets on the desk.

"So, why are we meeting today?" She folded her hands on top of her desk and I noticed a small, golden wedding ring glistening in the fluorescent light. "What is on your mind?"

I glanced behind her to the cabinets surrounding her desk, adorned with photos of her, Mr. Brannigan, and Anthony. I said in a small, shaking voice, "Anthony."

She looked over her shoulder at the collage. "Do you know my son?"

"Your son," I repeated as a nervous sweat broke out across my body.

"Yes, is – is it something about Anthony?"

I closed my eyes and remembered what Taylor said, trying to channel the courage in my heart. The bloody and roughened chunk of what was left of my heart twitched inside the empty cavity my chest and started a small flame, just enough to get me to start.

"I went to a party," I blurted out quickly so that I could get it all out before my courage was completely depleted, "Anthony was at the party. I started drinking the punch and it tasted funny. I didn't know it was spiked and he got me to drink more. Then when I tried to leave, he forced me into a bedroom," my bottom lip quivered too hard to continue. I dropped my head into my hands and began weeping. I moved my shaking hands up the side of my face to my hairline, gripping onto the roots and tugging at them in distress.

She was silent for a few minutes and I could only imagine how she looked as I bawled in front of her.

"What do you think happened in the bedroom, Gabriella?" She asked sternly.

I dropped my hands into my lap, and they immediately snapped into fists. They constricted tighter and tighter as my nails dug into my palms. Against my shaking body and heaves for air, I coughed out, "He raped me."

Without a moment's consideration, she began, "I know my son. You are mistaken, Gabriella. You are in shock. You are confused. It had to have been someone else. It was not Anthony."

"I know what happened to me, Mrs. Brannigan. I may not have control over what happened, but I certainly know who did it."

"You know nothing!" She snapped, laying her fists onto her desk. "You know nothing of what these false accusations can do to a young man. These kinds of lies will destroy his future!

"Gabriella," she suddenly calmed, "I am so sorry for what happened to you. I want nothing more than to see an awful person served justice, but we will never see that happen if you continue to frame my son. I know he is innocent. You need to remember what actually happened that night, who actually took you into the bedroom. Then we may discuss how to move forward."

I sat in her chair motionless, hot tears leaking from my eyes and caressing my cheeks as they fell.

"Please," Mrs. Brannigan stood and crossed around her desk to the door. "Leave."

I rose from the chair, wiping the snot underneath my nose onto my sleeve in the process.

I exited the guidance office with my head hung low in defeat.

"Here," Taylor held my book bag out to me.

I took it and murmured, "We are never speaking of this again," before fleeing down the hallway. I heard her call after me, but I kept moving, the tears stinging in my eyes.

…

When the final bell rang, I made my only goal to make it out the front doors and to my mom's van without being noticed by anyone. I winced each time I turned the corner, afraid Anthony would be right behind it.

I had survived all the way out the front doors when I felt someone's hand around my wrist.

"No!" I yelped, closing my eyes tightly and batting the perpetrator off, "Don't touch me!"

"Whoa, relax."

I opened my eyes and found Troy slowly backing away with his hands in the air, a few curious onlookers watching the commotion.

"Troy," I gasped. "I'm so sorry, I thought you were someone else."

"It's okay. I'm sorry if I startled you."

"It's alright." I sidestepped to the brick wall of the building, out of the way of the flocks of people leaving.

Troy joined me and asked, "When do you want to study tonight?"

Just the thought alone of starting on the endless assignments I was behind on exhausted me. Truth be told, all I wanted was to sleep the entire evening away. "Do you mind if I take a rain check? I just…It's been a long day."

"That's alright. How does tomorrow morning sound? I get here around seven."

"Yeah, I'll have to see what my mom says."

"Okay, and don't forget about our agreement."

I shot my eyes from side to side in confusion, "What?"

"You were going to bring me some of your mom's brownies?"

"Oh yeah. Yeah, I know. I'll ask her."

"Okay," Troy chuckled. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodbye."

…

Far too exhausted from the school day, I immediately retired into the safe enclosure that is my bed the moment I arrived home. I buried my face in the pillow and brought the covers over my fatigued body and fell into a deep slumber until my mother knocked on my door.

"Gabriella!" She yelled, "come downstairs and eat dinner with the family."

My nap had only taken off a sliver off of the exhaustion I felt earlier. I rubbed my eyes and took my sweet time leaving the warmth of my bed.

"Gabriella?" She knocked again.

"I'm up!" I snapped.

"Watch the attitude!" She warned me before going back downstairs.

I dragged my heavy feet all the way to my seat at the dining room table.

My father happily greeted me, "I'm pleased to see you've joined us."

"Yeah," I groaned before tacking on, "me too."

My mother laid a plate filled to its maximum with turkey, mashed potatoes, and buttered green beans in front of me. "Gravy?" She held the little bowl and ladle out to me.

"No thanks," I said, already doubting my ability to finish the mountain of food that already weighed down my plate.

My mother took her seat across the table from me and began cutting up Isabella's portion. "How's school?" She asked.

I felt my heart disintegrate at the reminder. "Fine," I hollowly responded.

She followed up, "How are your grades?"

"The same."

"Just fine? Does that mean you're getting A's?"

A sting of disappointment stung at my core to realize that she was more concerned with my grades than why I've been so terrified to go to school each day. "Yeah," I responded.

My father asked, "How's Troy doing? We never see him around here anymore. Are you two still studying together?"

"Kind of. We're both just busy."

My mom said, "I thought you needed his book to study."

"…Yeah," I admitted.

"Well? Don't you _need_ to see him then?"

"Yeah. We were planning on meeting up before school tomorrow morning. Could you drop me off early?"

"How early?"

"Like seven."

She abruptly tossed her fork onto her plate with a _clank_! "Why am I only hearing about this now? I have my own schedule to worry about, you know."

"Okay, then don't take me in early. Just forget about it if it's a problem."

"It's not a problem tomorrow, but I'm saying that it could have b-"

"So you're mad at me over a just hypothetical situation then?"

My father raised his voice over our bickering, "Can we please have one family dinner together without arguing? That's all I ask for."

My mother and I dropped our argument and the rest of the dinner occurred in silence, only the utensils scraping against the plates and Isabella's occasional coos to be heard.

* * *

 _January 19_ _th_ _, 2018_

I couldn't stop yawning on the ride to school. We were even up before the lazy sun rose. My mother easily pulled up to the front of the school without anyone else in line. I walked through the gloom outside towards the bright lights shining from inside the school.

I found Troy at a table in the library underneath an inflatable book dangling from the ceiling.

"Hey," he greeted me with a smile.

"Hey," I parroted, taking a seat across the short table from him.

"Where are my apology brownies?"

"Crap." I hit my forehead against the table and murmured into its wooden surface. "I forgot."

"What?" Troy chuckled.

I sat up straight and repeated, "I forgot to ask my mom. She probably wouldn't have said yes anyways. She was already pretty peeved about having to take me in so early."

"I'm sorry, we could have found another time like after school or something."

"I can't study after school," I divulged. "I can't do much of anything, actually. I always feel too exhausted."

"Oh, do you sleep enough during the night?"

"Yeah," I confessed, my filter evidently not activated yet so early in the morning. "I'm always sleeping."

"Oh…is…are you alright?"

I sighed. "I'm fi-"

"Fine?" He cut me off, "I get if you don't want to talk about whatever is wrong, but you're lying to me. You were crying in class two days ago and you have been acting all different. You're not fine, but so what? Most of us aren't. Admit it. Own it."

I gazed at Troy in perplexion, his words playing back in my head as I deeply considered them. First, I was not prepared for him to notice and call out that something was wrong with me. Not that he's oblivious or unmindful; I just didn't think he regarded my feelings much. Secondly, his acceptance and understanding of my distressed state surpassed that of my own. Could it be possible that I find power and comfort in confessing to this suffering? He said that most of us aren't fine, and I couldn't help but wonder what could be bothering the seemingly flawless guy.

I watched him as he casually reached into his backpack and took out the massive biology textbook as though he hadn't just completely shattered the misconception I had of him. He glanced up and caught my expression. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I quickly shook my head. "We should start on the homework."

…

My head felt ten times heavier and harder to hold up than usual in biology this morning. The lecture dragged on and on until he finally wrapped it up after what felt like a solid infinity of biology problems. He was giving us a ridiculously exhaustive assignment list when he tacked on, "Gabriella, please come to the supply closet once you've packed up."

Troy and I exchanged anxious glances. I whispered to him, "I'll text you later," before walking to the supply room where Mr. Brannigan waited. He was leaning against a stack of boxes marked EQUIPMENT wearing a serious frown.

"Close the door," he instructed me.

I reached my hand to grab onto the door when a familiar constriction flourished in my abdomen. "I'm not comfortable with that."

Mr. Brannigan quickly stepped forward and pushed the door shut, "Why? What do you have to fear? I'm the one who should be afraid of you. A little girl like you with a single false accusation could ruin my life, the same way you're trying to ruin my son's."

It felt like I had been kicked in the chest. "What?"

"Anthony is a good kid. The atrocity you're accusing him of committing is sickening. Do you know what kind of punishment you could face for falsely accusing someone of rape?"

"I'm not falsely accusing anyone. I'm telling the truth."

"Anthony told us it was you who led him to the bedroom, and it was you who was making advances. And now you regret it so now you want to call it rape. You are lying through your teeth like you have been since the moment you stepped into this class. You're a liar and a cheat."

I held up a shaking finger to him warningly and spoke as clearly as I could, "I am leaving and I will scream if you try to stop me." With tears pooling in my eyes, I reached behind me for the door handle, twisted it open, and quickly spun out of the room.

I ran through the hallways, choking down the urge to start sobbing and screaming. I found a secluded side-hallway and faced the lockers while I focused on calming down. I swung my book bag around my side to retrieve my cellphone. I sent Taylor a message:

 _We need to talk. Soon._

The bell rang and I anxiously glanced back and forth between each end of the dim hallway. My phone shook in my hand:

 ** _Taylor_** : _How about after school?_

 _I'll ask my parents,_ I responded. _Thank you._

…

"I came as soon as I could," she panted, her hand held up to her face to fidget with the latch on her helmet strap. "My parents made me do all my chores before they let me leave."

"It's okay. How long of a bike ride was it?"

"About twenty minutes," She walked off the stoop again and put her hung her helmet on the handlebars.

"I'm sorry, I could have asked my mom to drive you."

"It's alright. So, what's going on? You said we needed to talk."

"Come with me," I led her inside the foyer and we started jogging up the stairs.

"Gabriella?" My mother approached the bottom step. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your friend?"

I turned around and said simply, "Mom, this is Taylor."

Taylor said, "Nice to meet you, Mrs. Montez."

"Nice to meet you, too. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

"Thank you ma'am, but I don't believe I will be staying that late."

"Alright." She began walking back through the arch into the den. "It was nice meeting you, Taylor."

Taylor smiled and waved, then we continued to the second level where I took her to my room. I closed the door behind us and sat crisscross on my bed, and Taylor joined me.

She asked, "What happened during the counseling session?"

"The counselor in that day was Anthony's mom. She told me that I was mistaken and that Anthony wouldn't do such a thing."

Taylor remained silent, her mouth agape and her sympathetic eyes shining with concern.

"It gets worse. She must have told Mr. Brannigan because he confronted me after class. He said that Anthony told them that it was _me_ who led him into the bedroom and initiated everything, like it was consensual. He then called me a liar and cheat."

Taylor stood from the bed and began pacing the floor next to it, wringing her hands on the back of her neck in distress. "How could they say that? How could a counselor share confidential details of a session? How could a teacher say that to a student?"

"How could someone rape?" I added on.

Taylor clutched at her heart as though she were trying to keep the shattered pieces intact. Her lips quivered and her large brown eyes began watering. "It isn't fair!" She yelled, bringing up her hand over her mouth as she started to cry.

I stood and approached her, laying my hand on her back. "I'm sorry," I said.

"No, _I'm_ sorry Gabriella. You shouldn't be the one consoling me. We need to be figuring out what we can do about this injustice."

"There's nothing we can do about it, Taylor."

"Of course there is! We could take this higher up, to someone above the counselors."

"And do what? What would we gain by bringing the administration into it? It would just let more people know than the few who already do. I meant it when I said that I didn't want this getting out there. And even if I soldiered through it, it's just going to be my word against his. Anthony has his parents, members of the school, on his side. There's no hope."

"Even with all of that against you, you could at least try."

I sighed, "That's not a fight I'm willing to put up."

Taylor slowly nodded and softly said, "Okay." She then took her spot on the foot of my bed again, hunching her shoulders over in a downcast manner.

I sighed, realizing there was something more. "You're disappointed in me."

"I'm not disappointed in you, Gabriella."

"Then what's with the long face?"

"I don't know," she looked away from me, but I could still hear her voice crack.

"Taylor, what's wrong?"

She stood and began pacing the space between my window and my bed. "It's just so unfair," she vented. "I will respect whatever you choose, Gabriella. I will drop this if that's truly what you want. I just have to say that I wish you wouldn't. I want nothing more than to see you bury him in the truth."

 _Bury him in the truth_ , her words echoed in my head. Serving Anthony the justice he had coming was an appealing thought, but at what cost? I would be totally exposed. I'm already struggling accepting and living through what happened on my own, revealing the most mortifying event in my life would only pile embarrassment onto the problem. As much as I hated and feared coming forward, I hated what he did to me more.

Against every insecure and doubtful thought running through my mind, I said, "Okay."

Taylor snapped her head towards me.

"I will fight."

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! What do you think of Taylor's line, "I want nothing more than to see you bury him in the truth"?**


	13. The Fight

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **13\. The Fight**

 _January 22nd, 2018_

"I don't want to fight," I said to Taylor, my breath catching in my throat as my eyes anxiously darted around the hallway outside the dean's office.

"Listen to me, Gabby," She spoke calmly; resting her hands on my shoulders and making me face her. "You can do this. You are brave, strong, and courageous. This won't kill you."

"Yeah, it won't kill me, but it sure could make my life a living hell."

"But what if it doesn't? What if we get on the other side of this and realize this is what ended up _helping_ you cope, and _helping_ you move on?"

I scoffed in response as my eyebrows furrowed together in worry.

"Do you want to walk away?"

"Yes," I quickly responded. "I do. I want to ignore it. I want to go on pretending like this never happened."

"I wish that this never happened to you, either, but that's not reality. The fact is that it did and that you can't ignore it anymore."

I dropped my head, "I know."

Taylor brought her arms around me, saying, "Think of the other women Anthony might target next if he walks free. Think of finally receiving closure for yourself."

I released a long breath. "Okay," I said. "I'm ready."

Taylor guided me over to the office and held the door open for me. I stepped up to the receptionist's desk, Taylor standing right behind me. I watched as her wrinkled hands slowly typed at the keyboard in front of her, not wanting to interrupt. I nervously glanced behind me to Taylor, who then cleared her throat. The woman suddenly looked up at me and said, "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't see you there. How may I help you?"

"I would like to speak to the dean about a sexual assault."

"Mrs. Phillips is in a meeting right now, could you come back later?"

"But it's about a sexual assault."

"I understand, but she has meetings this morning. Come back around one. I'll pencil you in. What's your name?"

"Gabriella Montez."

"Your meeting with her is scheduled for one, alright? Is there anything else I could do for you?"

"N-no," I gave her a weak smile and left the office with Taylor.

Once the door closed behind us, I whispered to Taylor, "I can't believe that! That was just ridiculous."

"Who could the dean possibly be meeting with that's more important than a sexual assault report? Freaking Jesus?" Taylor scoffed.

I quietly giggled in a fleeting moment of bliss where my anxiety loosened its hold on me. "I guess I'll just have to go back during my open period," I moped, remembering the daunting task ahead.

"You should be in there right now," Taylor shook her head disapprovingly.

"Are you free at one?" I asked her.

"I…I have biology, but we're not doing anything important. I can be here."

I shook my head, "No, go to class. I'll be fine."

"I'll be here if you want," she offered. "Gabriella, I'm not going to prioritize something like school over my friend."

I felt a smile tickling at my lips when I said, "It's okay. You've already done so much for me. I can handle this."

…

I adjusted in my seat for approximately the fourth time as I waited in the uncomfortable chair by the receptionist's desk. I glanced across the room above the dean's office door to the clock, showing _1:14_. With my eyes fixating on the loose carpet fibers on the floor, I began thinking about the battle ahead. I would need to be courageous when the moment came, and I somehow felt confident with the small arsenal of courage burning in my heart. In due time, I trusted myself to see to it that Anthony was going to be entirely incinerated.

"Gabriella," A tall, dark skinned gentleman approached me.

I simply looked up at him and stood in response, my voice cowering in the back of my throat.

"My name is Mr. Reynolds. I'm one of the counselors from the guidance office." He spoke quieter, "I understand you're meeting with the Mrs. Phillips about a sexual assault today, is that correct?"

I croaked, "Yes."

"Okay, there will be another student in there with you. If that makes you uncomfortable, we can reschedule. Mrs. Phillips is just too busy to fit both meetings in today. I believe it could be beneficial to have the support of someone who has experienced something similar as you give your report. It's entirely up to you. What do you want to do?"

I didn't need to think about it, it was now or never. "I'd like to meet with her today."

"Alright," Mr. Reynolds led me over to the dean's door and held it open for me. I took in a breath and nervously clenched my hands into fists at my side and entered the office.

The dean, Mrs. Phillips, was staring over a piece of paper on her desk as she quickly wrote on it. Without taking her eyes away from her work, she ordered me, "Take a seat."

I glanced at the open chair, when my eyes naturally connected with the girl occupying the other seat. Mr. Reynolds may have had good intentions, but this particular girl and I would certainly not have some amazing bonding moment and support each other. I could tell by her spiteful glare and unwelcoming body language that she despised my presence. I couldn't blame her. I would feel the same way if someone kept intruding on my space.

I took my seat and looked ahead to Mrs. Phillips, Martha's eyes still burning into the side of my face.

"I understand that both of you have sexual assault reports to file today."

We remained silent.

Mrs. Phillips glanced up from her work, "That _is_ what this meeting is about, correct?"

I nervously cleared my throat, shaking loose the constricting feeling from it, "Yes."

"Excellent," she said and my eyebrows instinctively furrowed together questioningly. Perhaps I was reading too far into it, but it just seemed like an inappropriate thing to deem _excellent_ , this meeting or the assaults. "So, who would like to go first?" She asked, and I felt myself recoil in my seat.

"What is this?" Martha snapped, "Supposed to be some kind of presentation or something? Should I have put a PowerPoint together for you?"

Mrs. Phillips looked back and forth between the two of us and raised her palms up on either side of her body defensively. "Of course not. I'm not sure what I've said to warrant this hostility. I'm simply asking who would like to speak first."

"You don't understand, do you?" Martha said, her voice cracking with emotion as she spoke. "Neither of us wants to be here."

"I assume both of you want to file reports of sexual misconduct against other students at this school, either that or Mr. Reynolds was mistaken. I've already confirmed your purpose for being here, so now I must ask you these questions. I can't read your mind."

"You don't ask us like _that_."

Mrs. Phillips sighed and laid her hands atop the papers on her desk. "Alright Martha, how would _you_ like me to ask you about the incident?"

"First, I want you to understand that it's not as simple as a single incident. It doesn't go away once it's over. There's residual pain and damage that will last forever. So while you may be able to go on about your day after this meeting, we can't."

I found my voice and spoke up, "If I seem hesitant it's because your receptionist dismissed me. I came in this morning to see you and she told me to come back hours later. What was so important?"

Mrs. Phillips let out a forceful sigh and impatiently said, "Alright. If you both just want to gripe about my busy schedule, I'll join you. We could go back and forth and waste the entire afternoon complaining. However, if you want to file sexual misconduct reports, we need to get started soon."

"Fine," Martha said. "I'll go first."

"Wonderful," Mrs. Phillips said. "When did this occur?"

"This morning by the fountain."

"Okay," Mrs. Phillips drawled out the last syllable as she wrote on her papers. "And what exactly happened?"

"Well I was trying to walk through a crowd towards the doors when Anthony Brannigan purposely grabbed my breast."

"Were there witnesses?"

"Yeah, his whole group of friends, but after I started yelling at him about it, they all acted like I was crazy. I don't think they'll tell you the truth."

"Was there anyone else with you?"

"No."

"Alright, well, here's what I'm going to do with that. I want to call Anthony in here once you've left and listen to his side of the story. If he denies it and has witnesses to support him, I can't discipline him."

Martha slowly leaned her forehead forward towards Mrs. Phillips and asked, "So you're saying that it's my word against his?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Martha's voice dropped low as she growled, "Let me tell you that no matter what he and his friends say, no one purposely gropes a woman's chest with an open hand like he did. If the school administration doesn't discipline him, my family will get a lawyer involved."

Mrs. Phillips raised a hand to her, "That won't be necessary. Let us conduct our internal investigation first. You don't want to get lawyers involved. It will take much longer and will be much more expensive for _everyone_. Martha, I promise you this will be this resolved. It is my job as a school administrator to protect my students and I will do so diligently. Do you understand?"

Martha relaxed her rigid hold on her seat and sat back in her chair, "Alright."

There was a pause while Mrs. Phillips shuffled around the papers on her desk. She suddenly looked up at me and asked, "What about you?"

My heart was thumping against my chest and I could feel my pulse in my neck. _It's three words, Gabriella._ I coached myself; _it's just three small words._ "He raped me."

"Who?"

I glanced at Martha, "Anthony Brannigan."

Mrs. Phillips abandoned her writing and leaned forward seriously to ask, "He _raped_ you?"

"Yes," I said.

"When?"

"Two Saturdays ago."

"Why didn't you come forward sooner?"

Martha countered on my behalf, "What does that matter? I mean, she's here now, isn't she?"

Mrs. Phillips began writing on her papers again. "Where did this happen?"

"His friend's house. I don't know whose, but I have the address."

"So…this wasn't on school property?"

"No."

"Did you go to the police?"

"No."

"Why not?"

Martha quipped up, "Again, what does that matter? Why are you asking her about the ways that she comes forward? What's the issue with that? That's obviously not the big problem here."

Mrs. Phillips responded, "I'm asking _her_ the questions, Martha. So you didn't go to the police?"

"No."

"Did you go to a hospital?"

"On Monday I went to the emergency room, but we left before they could examine me. I didn't want them to examine me. I was scared. I didn't want anyone to know."

"I see," Mrs. Phillips took a few moments to catch up her writing before addressing us. "I will consult the school's officer about how we should report this to the proper authorities regarding your case, Gabriella. In the meantime, we're going to pull Anthony from class and have him in in-school suspension to keep you separated. I don't want to alert your parents if that would make you uncomfortable or if you haven't already, but they'll eventually need to be notified of this."

"I haven't told my parents yet, but I don't want to be the one to tell them. Could you call them?"

"That'll be something to work out with a counselor."

"I want to do that with Mr. Reynolds, not Mrs. Brannigan."

Mrs. Phillips briefly considered the request, and then quickly agreed, "Of course. Visit the guidance office and set up an appointment to speak to your parents with him today. Do either of you have any more questions or concerns?"

We shook our heads.

"Alright," Mrs. Phillips stood from her desk and approached the door. "You two should be proud of yourselves for coming forward." She opened the door for us and continued, "I can't imagine how difficult this must be."

I exited the room and went through the reception area back into the hall. It was done, but I wasn't convinced it did anything to help me. The memories were just as vivid, the bruises still visible. I remained damaged – broken, and soon everyone else would know about it, too. Everyone would see me as the scared, defenseless girl that I really was. I dropped my head as I felt fresh tears gather in my eyes. Pulling my arms over my chest in an attempt to shrink the space I occupied and my existence altogether, I walked over to a gap in the lockers and hid myself there. I leaned my back against the cool, smooth metal and slid down to the floor.

I balled the ends of my sleeves over my fingers and bit into the bundles of fabric to silence my cries. The tears began dowsing my hot cheeks and jumped off my jaw onto my jeans. I pulled my hands back and let the fabric between my teeth snap back around my wrists. My chest was shaking as I sniffled and wiped the tears off with my soaked sleeves.

No one passing by had thought to look down and between the lockers to find me, until a familiar figure happened to hear one of my sniffles. His beautiful blue eyes peered down at me from beneath furrowed brows. He opened his mouth to speak, then promptly closed it. He stepped into the threshold and pivoted to face me, then lowered himself to sit on the ground across from me.

He rested a hand on his knee and leaned his head to the side while watching me. "Do you want to talk about it?" Troy asked.

My lip quivered and my eyes stung as new tears threatened to form, "No."

"Do you want me here with you?"

"Yes."

He slowly nodded, looking at me.

I spoke again, "This place is so different. I feel like I've lost some of myself moving here…because of someone. I know I can't go back, but I'm so desperate to. I want nothing more in the world than to be back out on that massive lake and be with the bugs and plants, but you'd probably think that's just pathetic, don't you?"

"I don't think that's pathetic at all."

"Are you lying?"

"I'm not lying. I can prove it." He got onto his feet and offered his hand down to me, "I have something to show you."

I studied his outreached hand for a moment before raising mine to it. He pulled me up and led me down the hallway towards the science labs. He stopped in front of a door with a sign on it saying _NO UNSUPERVISED ACCESS_. He murmured to me, "Keep a look out," before removing a card from his wallet and fiddling with the lock.

I turned around and glanced up and down the hallway, occasionally looking back at the commotion he was making.

"Got it," he quietly declared. He held the door open for me as I cautiously entered the bright area. "C'mon," he led me up the stairs where I noticed an array of plants and greenery surrounding the stairway. He took me around to the backside where a single bench was placed between two massive bushes flaunting their green leaves and yellow flowers. We sat down on the bench and he pointed out in front of him. "Do you see that?"

I leaned against him to see where he was pointing and spotted the silhouette of a magnificent mountain range standing with the clouds. "Whoa!" I stood and walked over to the railing, laying my hands on the hot iron and gazing out at the scene.

Troy joined me and cleared his throat, "We can't give you a massive lake like Minnesota, but New Mexico has its favorable characteristics, too."

"Evidently so."

He gave one quick sigh before saying, "I know you don't want to be here, but you have made Albuquerque better a better place to me by being here, so I figure it's only fair to share my favorite secret getaway with you."

Surprised, I turned to him and said, "Thank you, Troy." I wrapped my arms around him and brought my head down to his chest.

We remained in an embrace for some time before a loud, vibrating buzz erupted around us. "Are you going to be okay, Gabriella?" He asked as his strong arms slowly loosened from around me.

"I think so.".

…

"Gabriella," Mr. Reynolds stood from his desk and motioned to the armchair across from it, "Please, sit."

"Thank you," I said, accepting the chair. "Mr. Reynolds, I'm technically missing a class right now. Is that a problem?"

"No, I'll write a pass to your teacher and explain that we had an emergency meeting during this period."

"Are you going to mention the assault?"

"No, I won't. You don't need to worry about that," he leaned back in his swiveling chair, and brought his limp fingers up to his chin thoughtfully while his other hand scrolled through his laptop. "Mrs. Phillips sent me an email about this meeting. I was thinking we'd call your parents now to set up a meeting with them after school today."

"Okay," I nervously scratched my fingernails over the leather on the armrest.

"I was thinking that I'd do all the talking, but you'll stay in here to hear everything."

"Oh," I sighed in relief. "Good."

"Could you enter one of your parent's phone numbers into the keypad?"

"Sure," I did as he said.

"Who did you call?"

"My mom, Maria Montez."

Mr. Reynolds nodded his head and we both listened to the ringing until she picked up, saying, "Hello?"

"Hello Mrs. Montez, this is James Reynolds from East High School. I'm a counselor in the guidance office. Is now a good time to speak with you?"

"I…yes," she said nervously, "Now is fine. What is this about? Is Gabriella in trouble?"

"No ma'am, Gabriella is not in trouble. Gabriella would like to speak with you and your husband about an issue. Is there a time today when you and your husband could meet with us?"

"Is Gabriella there?"

I shook my head to Mr. Reynolds.

"No, she's not."

"Okay, well, can you tell me what this about?"

"I'm afraid that's something Gabriella wanted to talk with you two about, so I could not discuss it. Are you available to meet with us after school dismisses at three thirty?"

"I…Yes. We'll be there. Thank you." She hung up.

"Alright," Mr. Reynolds turned off the phone and leaned back in his chair again. "Do you know how you're going to tell them?"

"No."

"Would you like to talk about that? We could come up with a plan together."

"I don't know. I don't really like talking about it. If it were up to me, I would never have to tell them at all."

"Right, I could help you when the time comes if you get stuck."

"Okay," I nodded. "Thank you."

"Of course," Mr. Reynolds smiled. "I understand if you don't want to attend the rest of class. So if you would like to stay in my office and study until they arrive, that's fine with me. I'll just be answering emails."

"Yes, that sounds perfect." I put my headphones in and got to work, but completely forgot to turn my music on. It was around 3:30 when I heard my mother's anxious voice asking the receptionist for Mr. Reynolds and I. I took the ear buds out and let them dangle over my lap as Mr. Reynolds stood to greet her.

"Gabriella," She said as soon as she saw me. "What's going on?"

I told her, "We have to wait for dad."

"I want to know this instant why I'm being called to meet with a school counselor. Now, what is going on?"

"Mrs. Montez," Mr. Reynolds interjected. "Given the sensitivity of the topic, you'll understand why Gabriella would like to tell everyone at once."

My mother struggled to form a coherent sentence with all of her confusion, "I just want to know what's happened! My mind is going to the worst-case scenario."

Just when I thought, _that's where your head should be,_ my father entered the cramped office with Isabella on his hip. "I got here as quick as I could." My parents exchanged concerned glances before my sister called out for me saying, "Gabby!" and reaching her little hands towards me. A small smile found its way onto my face and I stood to greet her. My father eyed me suspiciously as he passed Isabella into my arms.

"What is this about?" My father asked.

"Take a seat," Mr. Reynolds instructed my parents.

They quickly found their way into the two armchairs while I stood to the side of Mr. Reynolds' desk. I looked at the scene in front of me, at the last few moments that my parents were still blissfully unaware of what happened. In the next few minutes, they'd be enlightened and their perception of me would never be the same, I feared.

Isabella started gently patting my collarbones with her small hands and I thought aloud, "She shouldn't be in here."

Mr. Reynolds offered, "We can have the receptionist look after her in the lobby."

"I'd like to watch her," I decided. "I don't want to be in here for this," I explained. "I've dealt with this enough for one day. Could you tell them?"

"I - Yes, I can do that if you're sure."

"Thank you," I gave the scene one final glance before exiting the room with Isabella on my hip.

When the door latched shut behind me, the receptionist looked up from her work and sent me a polite smile. As I approached her desk, I let Isabella gradually slide down me until her feet touched the floor. "Excuse me," I said. "Do you have any crayons or markers we could borrow?"

She pinched her lips together in thought while opening the drawer beneath her desk's surface. "I have highlighters," she offered, holding out a handful of the neon markers.

"That'll work, thank you." I accepted the markers and took Isabella over to a table, and then tore a page out of my notebook from my backpack for her to use. I watched her as she dragged the highlighters around the page, one in her right hand and two in her left. Behind her head was the door to Mr. Reynolds' office. I gazed at it in anticipation, wondering when it would open and exactly where in the meeting they were.

After a few minutes of watching Isabella create her little masterpiece, the door slowly opened. My mother emerged first, quickly finding me with her wet, puffy eyes. She rapidly crossed through the lobby to me, and I stood just as she threw her arms around me. I held onto her as her heavy, erratic breathing tickled at my ear. "I am so sorry, Gabriella." She kissed my forehead before leaning her cheek on it. "I should have paid more attention."

I responded, "It's not your fault, mom."

I then noticed my father pacing the space behind her, his hands anxiously running through his dark, thinning hair. I separated from my mom and walked up to him next. He looked down to me with his lower lip quivering and his eyes watering while he promised me, "We will get justice for what's been done to you, Gabriella." He put his hand on my shoulder while his head drooped from his neck.

I said nothing, but brought my arms around him and held onto him as he began weeping. I wasn't sure that I believed them yet, but I told myself that maybe they would change now that they knew what really happened. Maybe we could start acting like the family we used to be, a family that listens to and supports each other. And maybe, just maybe, Anthony would be brought to justice like my dad said. With Taylor, Troy, and now my family behind me, it finally felt like that was an actual possibility.


	14. Me Too

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **14\. Me Too**

 _January 23rd, 2018_

The house was nearly silent this morning, just the shuffles of feet atop squeaky floorboards and singing pipes to be heard. My mother didn't yell to wake me up and everyone was somberly quiet during breakfast. Even Isabella seemed reserved. It was as though we were in mourning, like someone was gone, but I suppose part of me was.

Mom took me to the hospital before school for an examination. We approached the nurse at the desk who asked, "What is the patient's name?"

"Gabriella Montez."

She clicked a few times on her computer before quietly asking me, "Would you prefer a female or a male doctor to see you?"

"Female."

"Alright, I have you entered. You can take a seat as you wait."

Mom tried to follow me in, but they stopped her. "We're sorry, this is a private examination."

I said to mom, "I'll be okay. Wait here."

The nurse led me into a room and pointed to the folded gown on the table. "Please put that on. The doctor will be in soon."

I took off my all my clothes and dressed in the gown like she instructed. I flipped through a brochure on properly administering the Heimlich maneuver until there was a knock on the door. A ginger-haired woman with beautiful green eyes entered the room and introduced herself. After she explained everything that she'd be doing, we began. She took photos of my bruising and once she checked underneath my gown, she told me that I had some tearing. After she had placed a small cotton ball and a bandage around the skin she pierced on my arm, she said, "We'll need to see you again in six weeks for another round of testing for additional gonorrhea, chlamydia, syphilis, and hepatitis testing and a pap smear for HPV."

"Why do we have to do it a second time?"

"Basically, the accuracy of disease detection increases the longer it's been in the body." She stood from her stool and said, "You may dress in your clothes again. You did very good today."

Mom kept to herself the whole drive to school, but once we rolled up to the front curb, she stopped me. "Gabriella," she began, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. I waited as she took her time preparing something to say. I was anxious to hear her thoughts, since these words seemed to require extra attention and consideration before voicing. When she began speaking, her voice was sincere and regretful, "To think back on the days that I screamed at you to get out, I'm ashamed of myself now. I'm going to do better for you. I am your protector, Gabriella, and I want you to know that. If anything happens, don't hesitate to call me."

"Thanks, mom," I said. "I know."

I popped my door open and stepped outside when I looked back and noticed a teary glisten to her eyes. I let the door close and watched as she brought her hand up to her quivering lips and pulled away. I remained in that spot, watching as her van joined the long line of other cars filing out of the parking lot.

I unstuck my feet from the sidewalk and began heading towards the doors. Standing in the grass on my right was Anthony's hoard of skaters, eyeing me down like a pack of wolves whose alpha ordered them to stand guard. I fought with the temptation to turn around in the face of their intimidation tactic, but I stood my ground and walked past them anyways.

When biology came, I was pleasantly surprised to discover that a substitute teacher was taking over the class. Less pleasant was the hour and a half long review of the chapter, like I hadn't already had enough of it the last few weeks. By the time lunch rolled around, I realized from my time in the hallway that the whole school had to have known. Strangers who I've never talked to were staring at me, and some were even pointing me out to their friends. So it was either that everyone knew what happened, or that I had become a paranoid narcissist over night. Instead of being exposed to more unsolicited stares in the courtyard, I opted to keep hidden in the library during lunch. I sat at a table against the wall and opened the novel I've been blankly staring at the last few weeks.

I glanced to the side when I noticed someone approaching my table and found Taylor wheeling her rolling back pack behind her. I abandoned my novel on the table and stood to greet her, throwing my arms around her.

I felt the warmth from her smile tickle my ear as she said, "I am so proud of you."

I responded, "I couldn't do it without you, Tay."

We dropped our arms from around each other and she spoke, "Did you hear about the Brannigans?"

I flinched at the name, "I don't want to know anything about them."

"Oh, it's not bad news. None of them are here today."

"Really?"

"Seriously. Did you tell the dean about Mr. Brannigan yelling at you and what Mrs. Brannigan did?"

"Not yet. I was focused on telling my parents yesterday."

"It seems like the news about Anthony was enough to scare them off. But when are you going to tell someone about what they did?"

I shrugged. "I don't know that I will. It's already tough enough getting people to listen to me about him, I don't want to deal with the backlash for attacking his parents, too. I need to be smart about how I pick my battles."

Taylor shot me an uncertain look, then just as quickly shook it off and asked, "How did telling your parents go?"

"Well, I wasn't in the room. I had Mr. Reynolds tell them in a private meeting. But we should have just announced it on the intercom seeing that everyone found out anyways."

"Word spreads around this school way too quickly."

"Yeah," I drawled out the word as I thought. "Actually, did you hear anything else?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did you hear about anyone else?"

"No."

"You didn't hear that another girl was assaulted?"

Taylor thought for a moment before shaking her head, "No."

I pinched my lips together in thought, "That's interesting."

Taylor leaned in towards me and asked quietly, "Are you saying that someone else was assaulted? By Anthony?"

"Yes, but I can't say who."

"Of course."

"It's just bothersome that my story got out there, but hers didn't. It's kind of…suspicious."

"Wait, do you think she's the one who leaked it?"

"I don't know. She might have thought I deserved it. She could be acting vengeful after I took something from her."

A look or realization slowly crossed over Taylor's features and she mouthed the name, _Martha?_

I nodded.

Taylor shook her head, "No. I know her. It couldn't have been her."

"You also thought she'd stay on the team after I joined, but you were wrong about that."

"Being bitter about a scholastic decathlon spot is not the same as a sexual assault case. There has to be another answer."

"What then?"

"Let's think about it. The Brannigans know it was you because you told Mrs. Brannigan to her face. We know that she told the rest of the Brannigans because Mr. Brannigan confronted you about it. Therefore, it's not a stretch to say that she told Anthony, too. Anthony probably told his friends and that's how it spread. Your case spread because Anthony found out about it from his mom, whereas the other girl might still be anonymous to them. Who are we going to believe would spread this information: the rapist himself, or another victim? What woman would be so low as to spread your story like that?"

I considered her ideas, and then asked, "Do you have her phone number? I want to talk to her."

Taylor recoiled, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Please, Taylor. I need to hear it from her directly."

"What difference does it make? It's already out there."

"The way it got out there matters. If someone maliciously spread it, I'd want to know who."

"Gabri-"

"Please!" I snapped, "I don't expect you to understand, but just help me."

Taylor sighed, "Fine."

I added her number to my contacts and texted her:

 _This is Gabriella. I want to talk with you about what happened. Can you meet with me sometime today?_

She immediately responded: _No, that's what a therapist is for._

 _Do you hate me, Martha?_

 _**Martha** : Lol, what?_

 _Do you hate me? Is that why you told other people about what I said in the meeting?_

 _**Martha** : What? I did NOT tell anyone about that. I don't know how it got out. _

_So why don't people know about yours?_

 _**Martha** : I have no idea. Maybe it just wasn't as tragic? I don't know, but I didn't tell anyone about the meeting. I swear. I would NEVER do that to you, to anyone. And frankly, it's insulting that you could think that I did. I may not have liked you when you first came here, but that's just beyond mean._

 _I'm trying to believe you, but it's really hard to trust anyone right now. I hope you can understand why that might be._

…

Mrs. Phillips praised our bravery in coming forward, but personally, I'm not proud of myself. I don't _feel_ brave. I feel hollow. This ordeal has taken everything out of me. I'm tired already. So, so tired.

 _January 24th, 2018_

The moment my door shut and my mother pulled away, there was someone calling my name, "Gabriella!" I looked over and found Taylor jogging up to me, nearly out of breath.

"Taylor, what's going on?"

She quickly asked me, "Do you have social media?"

"No, why?"

"You have to see this." She tossed her phone to me and I looked at the posts on the screen.

* * *

 **Martha Cox**

 **Status** : _Everyone at school is talking about the recent rape accusations made against a male student and the girl who reported it. I can't just sit by and quietly listen to people doubting her story anymore. I feel compelled, obligated to share my experience and involvement with her case. I was in the room with her and the dean when she filed her report because I had my own sexual assault to report. Anthony Brannigan grabbed my breasts in front of the school when I was passing through his group to the doors. It was humiliating, but he seemed sickeningly comfortable with touching me without my permission. So whenever you think about doubting her story, remember that he doesn't have just one accusation against him anymore. #MeToo_

 **Likes** : 298

 **Comments** : 9

 **Shares** : 3

* * *

 **Kelsi Nielson**

 **Status** : _Hearing and reading about the recent accusations against Anthony Brannigan has caused so many repressed memories and emotions from years ago to resurface. When I was a freshman and he was a sophomore, Anthony took me out on a movie date. After it was over, I asked him to take me home since it was already late. He refused and took me out to campgrounds about twenty minutes out of the city. I was confused and concerned about my curfew, but just played along, not wanting to make a big deal out of nothing. When we arrived, he turned the car off and convinced me to go into the backseat, saying that we could see the stars better back there. So I got into the backseat and within the next few minutes I was struggling to keep my pants held up against his strong pulls on them. The rest of what happened is far too graphic to write, but I will be speaking with the police about the rape that then occurred. I would not have found the nerve to come forward with this story if it weren't for the girls who spoke up before me. Thank you for your courageous example and motivating me to finally tell my story. You aren't alone. #MeToo_

 **Likes** : 104

 **Comments** : 4

 **Shares** : 3

* * *

 **Tiara Gold**

 **Status** : _I dated Anthony Brannigan for a few weeks my sophomore year at East High. During that time, he frequently pressured me into sex with him. He was very pushy and often wouldn't understand the simple "no". I ended my relationship with him because I questioned my consent during those weeks we were together. I wasn't sure if I ever actually wanted to have sex with him since he often used guilt and manipulation to pressure me into it. I believe all of you who are coming forward with your stories about him. He's not a good person and should be avoided._ _#MeToo_

 **Likes:** 482

 **Comments** : 15

 **Shares** : 6

* * *

 **Sharpay Evans**

 **Status** : _I have been waiting for over a year to see this guy finally get served the karma that was coming back around for him. Last year, about four other girls and I were changing in the locker room after gym when we heard the shutter sound a phone makes when a picture is being taken. I followed the noise back to the showers that no one uses and found Anthony Brannigan in there zipping up his pants after god knows what. He dove towards me and put his hand over my mouth to muffle my surprised scream. The other girls started making a commotion, but he convinced us to stay quiet and not tell anyone, begging on his knees and explaining that it would ruin him and his parents' reputation. We decided as a group to let him off the hook, but I did get one good slap across his face in before he scurried out. We kept his secret the last year, but now that there are other stories coming out, it seemed like this needed to be shared. I don't doubt what the other girls are saying. Anthony is a sick human and every girl should be warned. #MeToo_

 **Likes:** 729

 **Comments** : 26

 **Shares** : 13

* * *

I handed the phone back to Taylor and wondered, _Did I spark an East High Me Too movement?_

I still felt people's eyes on me the rest of the day, but not like they were before. They weren't accusatory stares anymore, but rather curious. The posts from earlier must have validated my story in the public's eye and now they just wanted to know who this Gabriella Montez girl was. I could have felt embarrassed, but knowing that other girls were backing me up made me feel like I belonged to something bigger. This wasn't just about me anymore. This was about a movement and the potential for a change greater than what I could achieve on my own. This was about and for all of us. I'm not alone.

…

I barely had enough time to hold out my arms and free fall onto my bed before I heard my phone go off. I dragged myself back across the room to where I had dropped my backpack off by my door and reached in for my phone.

 **Taylor** : _Do you want to go to the mall? It might help get your mind off of things._

I responded, _Sure._

My father dropped me off outside the food court entrance and I met up with Taylor next to a pretzel shop. I looked around the open space and asked her, "So what are we going to do here?"

"Buy some things, and look around at all the other stuff we can't afford."

"Sounds like a plan! Should we start with some snacks?" I suggested.

"Of course!" We walked arm in arm around the food court until settling on a little Mediterranean hole in the wall. We bought a plate of pita and hummus to share and found a spot to eat. I had only nibbled off a few bites from the soft bread when I noticed some familiar people walking around behind her.

"Taylor," I said. "Look who's here."

She followed my eyes behind her and spotted the two guys.

I asked her, "Have you talked to him since the carnival?"

"No," Taylor said.

"Do you want to?"

She bit her bottom lip. "I don't know."

"C'mon, Tay. Don't be shy." I stood from my spot and went out into the walkway where Troy spotted me and smiled.

"Hey Gabriella."

"Hey, do you guys like hummus? We bought too much and could use some help finishing it off."

Chad said, "Oh yeah! I'm always down for free food." He led us back over to Taylor, where he and Troy both pulled up chairs to the table and began attacking the food.

Taylor spoke up, "What are you guys doing here?"

Chad answered, "Looking for a birthday gift for his mom."

Troy said, "We were thinking about going to that perfume shop in here."

Taylor asked, "Does she wear perfume?"

Troy silently thought for a moment, as though it were his first time seriously considering it. "Now that I think about it, I don't know."

"Well," Chad began, wiping his face off with a napkin. "She can start."

Taylor giggled, "What do you _know_ that she likes, Troy?"

"She owns a charm bracelet that my dad got for her a few years back."

I said, "So why don't you buy her a charm?"

"That's what she expects. I always get her a charm. It's a thoughtless gift at this point."

"That's nice that you want to put more thought into it. Taylor and I could help you guys out, if you'd like our opinions on it."

"That'd be great!" Troy threw away our trash and led us out into the heart of the mall.

I glanced into the windows of all the stores we passed by, one candle shop, one custom T-shirt shop, and a few clothing stores. It wasn't until we happened upon a little boutique that I slowed my pace to see everything inside. A stand of hats and a few racks of clothing were situated in the center, walled in by jewelry displays. I glanced ahead to Chad and Taylor slowly walking further away, then back at the jewelry, then back at them again.

"The world is paved with dead squirrels who couldn't make a decision." I spun around to shoot Troy a peculiar glance, when he explained himself, "My dad always says that to my mom when she's taking forever to make up her mind."

"How romantic," I teased.

Troy called ahead to Taylor and Chad, "Guys! Come back here! Gabriella found something."

We entered the shop and immediately dispersed, Taylor and Chad checked out the clothes as I approached the end of a wall of chain necklaces. I paced the length of the wall, allowing my fingers to gently drag over the dangling string thin metal. Once at the end, I turned around to spot Troy sniffing scented candles. I crossed behind a display case of watches and found a few hats. There was lovely grey beanie that I studied, discovering a few subtle threads of white intertwined within the fabric.

"You should put it on," I turned around to find Troy watching me.

I replaced the hat on the pile and started walking away, "You're not supposed to do that. That's how you spread lice."

"That's also how you see if it fits you and looks decent." Troy said, picking up the beanie from the pile and reaching up over my head to pull the hat low over my eyes, then folding it back up above my eyebrows. He took a step back and his blue eyes danced around my face. He reached forward and guided a lock of my hair out from behind my shoulder and placed it over my collarbone. "There," he smiled. "It's a cute look."

"Do you really like it?"

"I do. See it for yourself."

I walked around the racks until I found a mirror and exclaimed, "Whoa."

"Yeah," Troy appeared behind me in the reflection, " _whoa_."

I brought my hand up to my head and slowly slid the beanie off. "We should get you one."

"Nah, I already have hundreds at home."

"Really? I've never seen you in a beanie before."

Troy joked, "Shows how much you know me."

"How about a scarf?" I went over to a table and removed thick, red infinity scarf from a pile. "Try this on."

Troy took the circular piece of cloth and studied it, his brows furrowed together in confusion. "It doesn't end. Was this a mistake?"

"No, it's an infinity scarf," I explained.

Troy blinked, "What's an infinity scarf?"

"You've never seen an infinity scarf before?"

He shook his head.

"Here, it's easy." I took the scarf from him and reached one side over his head, then crossed it over his chest, and looped it back around his neck. I stepped away and we looked to the side at him in the mirror. In unison, we both began shaking our heads.

Troy took off the scarf and said, "Well, maybe it'll look good on you." He brought the scarf over my head once, but then forget the rest of the process. He stayed frozen with his hands on either side of the scarf, saying, "That's not right."

I giggled, "Cross it, then put it back around my neck again."

He did as I said we took a look at me in the mirror. "See, you can pull it off." Troy pouted. "All of this on you looked good, actually. I think you should buy them. You look really cute. I mean, not like you usually look bad or anything like that. You always look pretty. Am I rambling? Sorry, I like the look is what I'm trying to say."

I tilted my head to the side in consideration, "I think I'll get it." I turned around and smiled at him, "Thank you, my trusty stylist."

"You're welcome," he smiled, his vibrant blue eyes darkening as they slowly closed.

"Are you tired?"

He shook his head, his darkened eyes still on me.

"Then what's that look for?"

A small smile appeared on his face, "I'm not entirely sure."

* * *

 **A** **/N** : I thought I should explain why this chapter is so divided. It might have seemed strange to go from heavy inner monologue about validation to "here's some cute stuff that happened at the mall today!" Although they don't bring it up, everyone knows what happened. So although Troy and Chad never mention it to them at the mall, they are still fully aware of what's going on with Gabriella. So why aren't they saying anything? Well, Chad isn't as close to Gabriella as Troy and Taylor so it'd probably be an inappropriate and too personal of a topic to bring up with him around. And when you see someone who's going through a tough time finally smile, you don't want to remind them about the bad things and kill their good mood. Taylor wanted to take Gabriella to the mall to get her mind off of things and that's exactly what they achieved. I just didn't want anyone to assume that Troy is ignorant of or ignoring Gabriella's situation. It just wasn't the right time to bring it up yet. Troy and Gabriella will have a one-on-one scene in the next chapter that will show his reaction to her situation. As always, thank you for reading and please leave a review.


	15. I'm Not

** **Content** **Warning** ****** : The italicized paragraph in the January 29th entry may be disturbing to some readers. It graphically details Gabriella's nightmare involving disembodied hands holding her down onto her bed and twisting her fingers. Discretion is advised. The paragraph will be marked with two asterisks to signify its start and end for those who would like to skip over it.

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **15\. I'm Not**

 _January 28th, 2018_

I stood at my window and threw the curtains aside to greet the lazy morning sun. Then I went into my closet and searched for something conservative like the lawyer suggested. Afterwards, I met up with my parents in the kitchen. We said grace and silently nibbled on eggs and bacon, although none of us truly had an appetite for what we'd be facing today.

We piled in the van and headed downtown for the meeting with the investigator assigned to the case. With dad leading the way and mom trailing behind with Isabella, we passed through the long row of glass doors to enter the lobby. We weaved through the crowd of businesspeople and piled in an elevator to the sixteenth floor. When we introduced ourselves to the receptionist, she guided mom and Isabella to the waiting area and showed dad and I to a long room with a conference table situated in the middle. Our lawyer sat with us on the side facing the windows with the investigator on the other side.

At first, my heart pounded so hard against my ribcage I thought he could see its beat beneath my shirt. He spit out his questions at me so rapidly as though he would forget them if he didn't rush them out. How long had I known Anthony? Where did we meet? Why did I go to the party? Did I really not know that the punch was spiked? It wasn't until we reached the part where Anthony was dragging me through his house that I realized I wasn't the only one affected by this thorough interrogation. Dad startled me when he shot up in his chair and said, "We need a break."

I followed dad as he checked in on mom and Isabella. Mom stood and asked, "Hey. How's it going in there?" He breezed right by her, approached the water fountain, and poured himself a cup. "David?"

He subtly shook his head and quietly spoke, "It's fine."

"Do you want to switch? You'll watch Isabella and I'll be with Gabriella?"

"No," he snapped, "I don't want you to be in there." It was unlike my dad to snap at anyone, especially mom. It was obvious that my story had disturbed him, but he wouldn't want my mom to take his place.

We went back into the room with the investigator and continued the interrogation for another couple hours. At a certain point, I stopped feeling the affect of his probing and intrusive questions. It was like I was sitting in the back of my mind as he sifted through my memories. By the time we emerged from the room, I stopped feeling altogether.

Later Taylor texted me, but I couldn't be bothered with reading it. Truthfully, I didn't care.

* * *

 _January 29th, 2018_

When mom dropped me off, I saw Taylor waiting by the fountain. As I approached her she said, "Hey bestie!"

"Hey," I managed a small smile.

"I texted you yesterday."

"Oh."

"I'm guessing you didn't see it?"

"No, I didn't check it."

"Do you have plans tonight? I was thinking we could do a sleepover."

"Um, I might just want to stay in."

"Oh. Maybe another-"

I walked away. I couldn't even be bothered to pretend like I was interested. I didn't want to see anyone, even Taylor. I didn't want to do anything. I just didn't want to _be_.

Later in the hallways, Mr. Reynolds pulled me aside. He led me to his office and asked, "How are you feeling?"

I answered monotonously, "Numb. We had the interrogation yesterday."

He sat back in his chair and intertwined his long fingers across his stomach. "That's understandable. I'm sure they asked you about everything you could remember."

I nodded. "And the stuff I couldn't remember."

"How was it talking to the investigators about what happened? How did you feel during it?"

"At first I was nervous, but later I just felt numb. I answered everything they wanted to know, but I wasn't allowing myself to feel any way about it."

"Do you still feel numb?"

"Yes," I admitted. "I feel like I still have those walls up. I feel like nothing could faze me. I'm not sure that I like it. There's no bad, but there's nothing good, either. It's like I'm hardened."

"It's not uncommon for this kind of coping mechanism to arise during a stressful time. I think it's important for you to do things that were the same as before. If you have hobbies that you liked before, try to keep with them. If there are any traditions at home, continuing taking part in them. The goal with counseling is to regain the stability and identity you had before that traumatic event happened. You can find the version of you from before the assault."

"I can?"

"I'm certain."

I nodded. "Sounds good."

He shot me a peculiar look, but I excused myself back to class.

…

** _I laid face up on my bed peacefully, my breathing even and my eyes shut. My hands reached out on either side of my body, palms facing up. My eyes began searching from beneath closed lids when I felt a hand lightly stroke mine from my fingertips up to my wrist. The hand constricted around my wrist while more hands began holding down my fingers and snaking up to press down my arms. Suddenly, I felt hands grab onto my feet and other hand. They pushed me into the mattress, more and more crawling up my legs and holding them apart. I tried to scream, but I was paralyzed. The hands were landing higher and higher up my inner thigh and the ones on my hands began twisting my fingers until the bones snapped. My head jerked up and I let out a deafening scream, when a hand popped out of my headboard and grabbing onto my face, pushing my head back down onto the pillow.**_

I woke up breathing heavily and entirely dowsed in sweat. I jumped from the bed that the hands had confined me to and immediately ran out of my room. I looked around the dark hallway, my breathing still heavy. It was like everything that had been bottled up since yesterday came flooding back in. I walked to the bathroom and took off my damp clothing. I quickly rinsed the sweat from my body with cold water and then walked back to my room. I opened the door, flicked on the light, and looked at the bed. I then turned off the light and turned around, heading downstairs to try to sleep on the couch.

* * *

 _January 30th, 2018_

I didn't fall asleep until it was nearly time for me to wake up. I heard my mother knock on my door upstairs and proceed to pace the hallway. "Gabriella?" She called out.

"Down here!"

She walked down the stairs and entered the den. "What are you doing in here? Have you been here all night?"

"I had a nightmare so I came down here," I explained.

"Have you been up all night?"

"Most of it."

She sat by my feet and asked, "Do you want to try to go to school?"

I groaned, "Not really."

"Alright, I'll call the school."

"Thanks." I pulled the blanket back up to my chin.

…

It was a quarter to four when I finally woke up on the couch, my hair resembling a puffy and tangled mane. I yawned, stretched, and decided to make everyone some tea, following Mr. Reynolds' advice that I should try to keep some things the same as they were before. I filled the teakettle on the stove with water, and then removed the teapot and the cups from their cabinet. The water particles on the bottom of the kettle were just starting to steam when I heard a knock from the front door.

I flicked the whistling piece down on the kettle and set off through the den and living room towards the door. I opened it and found Troy standing on the porch, his hand on his backpack strap that was hung over his shoulder.

"Hey," he said.

"Hi."

"You weren't at school today, so I wanted to see that you were okay."

I could tell there was more to this visit than just that. I wished he would just come out and say it, but since he wouldn't, I did. "I know you know. It's okay. Everyone knows."

Troy stepped up to the house and turned to lean against the doorframe besides me. "I wasn't going to bring it up. I figured you wanted to be treated like nothing happened. I know how exhausting it can be to always be asked how you're doing and lie every single time."

"I wouldn't mind telling you the truth. We're friends after all. You can ask me about it."

"I'll remember that."

"Anyway, I'm fine. Thank you for checking in, you didn't need to."

Troy lifted his shoulder supporting the backpack and said, "I brought the textbook, in case you wanted to study."

Before I could answer, I heard the whistle from the kettle and said, "Come inside."

Troy entered and followed me into the kitchen where I turned off the burner and removed the screaming kettle from it. I opened the lid of the teapot and heard Troy slide onto a stool at the island. "I hope you like campfires."

"I love them," Troy said. "Why?"

"This tea, lapsang souchong, tastes exactly like that." I slowly poured the hot water over the leaves in the infusion basket.

"And it's _good_?" Troy asked me disbelievingly.

I shrugged. "Some would say so." I set the kettle back on the burner and replaced the lid on the teapot. I rested my hands on either side of it and looked up at Troy. "I prefer it with sugar and milk."

Troy nodded, and then brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck. "Gabriella, I don't mean to pry, but did something happen again that kept you from school today?" His tone suddenly became deep and threatening as he said, "I swear to God if that asshole is making you uncomfortable, just let me know and I can handle it."

"He's not at school." I shook my head and looked down at my fingernails. "It wasn't him. Well, nothing new at least. It's the memories and stuff."

"Oh." He nodded.

"I had a nightmare about it last night," I confessed. "That's what happened."

"I'm so sorry."

I shook my head, "It's alright. I'll be fine."

Troy put his elbow on the counter and leaned onto his hand, "Do you have someone to talk to? Like a counselor?"

"Yeah, I see Mr. Reynolds from time to time during school when I get overwhelmed. He's a pretty understanding guy. He lets me hide away in his office."

"I should have shown you how to unlock the door up to the rooftop garden. It's a good spot. I like going up there when I get stressed out."

"What stresses you out?"

"Life." His shoulders fell forward in a slump.

"You know that's awfully vague, right?"

"Yeah," He crossed his arm over his torso and began rubbing his elbow, "I know."

I crossed around the island to his side and positioned myself between him and the empty chair next to him. I carefully laid my hand on his arm and said, "Whatever it is, I'm sorry it bothers you."

He shot me a weak smile and said, "It's okay."

"The tea's probably done," I said before crossing back around and pouring two cups. "Do you want milk and sugar?"

"I'll take it however you take it."

"Sounds good." I turned towards the pantry and removed the little glass container of sugar from it. "I hope you like it."

"Don't worry, I'm sure I will."

I replaced the sugar and brought out the milk next, cautiously pouring it until the liquid turned over into a light brown color. Troy suggested that we do some homework and I reluctantly agreed. About thirty minutes after we started, my mother entered the room and jumped at the sight of Troy.

"Troy," she said. "Hello. I didn't hear you come in."

"I got the door," I said. "We made tea if you want some."

"That's alright. I just wanted a snack is all. What are you two doing?"

Troy answered, "Biology."

"It's very kind of you to come over and help her keep up with her work."

"Trust me Mrs. Montez, she's helping me way more than I'm helping her."

Mom smiled and grabbed an apple from the bowl of fruit on the end of the counter and said, "You're welcome over anytime."

"Thanks," Troy said as she left. "So, are you going to the game on Friday?"

"What game?"

Troy laughed, "The basketball game of course."

"Oh, I didn't know there was one."

"You should come. Bring Taylor. It'll be fun."

I eyed him suspiciously, "Will it?"

He laughed, "Yes. I promise."

"I'll be there… _I_ promise."

The wooden floorboards groaned from across the island and we both turned our heads to find my father standing there, silently staring Troy down. He accusingly asked him, "What are you doing here?"

"Biology," Troy said, gesturing towards the textbook.

Dad kept his eyes on him for a few moments longer as the intensity in his angered stare grew. "Go upstairs, Gabriella."

I asked, "For what?"

"Now," he hissed.

Afraid of what would happen when I left, I hovered in the kitchen. I was slow to leave the room, but then ran up the stairs to my bedroom. I found my phone charging on my bedside table and called mom's cell.

On the fourth ring, she finally answered, "Gabriella?"

"Where are you?"

"I'm in the study with Isabella. Is everything okay? Where are _you_?"

"Dad is talking with Troy in the kitchen. It looked serious. You need to intervene."

"I'll go right now."

I waited a few minutes until I knew mom would be there before I snuck out into the hallway. I slowly tip toed down the stairs to the foyer. My father's words were threateningly sharp, yet too quiet to decipher. I could hear Troy intermittently answer, "I'm not…I'm not…Sir, I'm not."

"David," I heard my mother say before the rest of the sentence was too quiet to make out. I leaned my head against wall besides the doorframe to hear them better when dad's heavy footsteps approached.

He found me, pointed up the staircase, and firmly said, "To your room."

My mother spoke up from the kitchen, "She's concerned you're going to scare off her friend!"

"There's no reason to be scared off if he's not up to no good."

He backed into the kitchen and I followed him in to find Troy a shade paler. Troy said, "Sir, I promise you I only have good intentions."

Dad crossed his arms over his chest before interrogating, "Where were you that night? Were you at that party?"

"Absolutely not. I don't associate with that group."

"Did you know my daughter was going there?"

"No sir."

"Had you seen him talk to her at school?"

Mom spoke up, "What is your point, David?"

"I don't have one. I'm just asking questions."

"You're being very rude about it!"

"Well _excuse me_ if I want to make sure that my daughter is safe with this guy!"

"Do you honestly think we'll have to clear each of her friends for the rest of her life?"

They soon began arguing over one another, neither of their sentences intelligible with the other's loud words intermixed. I interrupted, "He's not Anthony!" The room fell into a stunned silence.

The three of them stared at me completely unmoved. Troy was the first to unfreeze as he closed the textbook and said, "I should go."

Dad said, "Yes, you should," before walking outside onto the back porch.

Troy breezed by me and left without saying another word.

For the very first time in my life, we didn't have family dinner. Instead, my parents spent that time arguing in the study. That night as I lied in bed, waiting to fall asleep, my thoughts kept circling back to Troy. Truthfully, I felt awful for how my dad talked to him. It was close to eleven when I texted him: _Hey, just so you know, I'm really sorry about tonight._

He responded: _It's okay._ Those two words alone sent a wave of relief over me.

 _I feel so bad about what happened._

 _Honestly, it's not a big deal. I get it. He wants to protect you._

 _Again, I'm really sorry._

 _Seriously, you don't have to worry about it. It's all good._

 _Good. :) Sooo can I ask what you were talking about before I came back down?_

 _Nothing, it was just guy stuff._

 _I overheard you repeating, "I'm not". What was that about?_

 _I don't remember._

 _Troy…_

 _Honestly, I don't remember._

 _So…you want me to believe that you can remember that it was "guy stuff", but not exactly what?_

 _Yes please._

 _Lol. But seriously! No lies. What were you talking about?_

 _He wanted to know my intentions and I was reassuring him._

 _But you kept saying "I'm not"…you're not WHAT exactly?_

He never responded.

I looked through my other messages and found Taylor's unanswered one. I called her up.

She groaned into the phone, "Hello?"

I gasped, "Oh my god, did I wake you?"

"Well, it _is_ eleven so yes."

"I'm so sorry. God, I didn't realize it had gotten so late. We can talk about this tomorrow, but I just wanted to apologize to you while it was on my mind. I'm really sorry about yesterday. I wasn't feeling like myself, but that's no excuse to be rude to you."

She impatiently sighed, "Of course I know you're stressed, Gabriella. You don't have to tell me that. I know everything that's going on with you. It's unfair to take your frustration out on me when I'm not even involved in the situation. _I'm_ not the reason why you're stressed, so why do I get snapped at and ignored?"

"Taylor, you're completely right. You deserve so much better and I promise I'll be more conscious of how I talk to you and treat you. I'm sorry I've been such a shitty best friend. I really, really want to make it up to you. I'll buy us snacks and a movie for a sleepover, if you still want one."

"Well _obviously_ I still want one."

I laughed. "Aw, thank you! And I promise you things will change."

"We'll see about that tomorrow. For now it's bedtime."

"Goodnight, I love ya, girl!"

"Love you, too."

* * *

 _January 31st, 2018_

As the supply drawers slammed shut and the beakers rattled against each other in their stands, the substituted yelled over the excited class's chatter, "The test will be passed out five minutes after class starts on Friday. Do not wait until two minutes 'til to review the material. Study, study, study!"

Troy dragged his hands down his face and grumbled into his palms, "Jesus Harold Christ. I'm never going to pass that test."

I patted him on the arm consolingly. "Don't worry. I made a detailed study guide. It has over a hundred practice problems and all their solutions on the backside. There are vocabulary terms, step-by-step examples, and keys." I unzipped my backpack and smacked the thick guide onto the black lab table. "Once you use it, I can guarantee at least a B."

"Sweet! Thank you so much."

I let him pick up the stack of papers and sift through the detailed pages. It was my way of giving him a feel for its potential before I snatched it back and said, "All you have to do is finish one small phrase and then it will be all yours."

He sighed, "Let me guess, _I'm not_ …?"

I smiled. "Precisely."

" _I'm not_ …ever going to tell you."

"Troy, you need this study guide."

"I know and if you won't give it to me because I won't tell you what we were talking about, then that's your choice."

" _Wow_ , very impressive how you spun this on me." I crammed the study guide back into my book bag.

"What?" He held onto my arm and gently pulled me to look at him. He lowered his head closer to mine, the intensity in his eyes making me hold my breath. "I don't mean to manipulate you. Ever. What I meant to say was that regardless of this study guide, I still can't tell you. At least not right now. Not with how skeptical your dad is of my intentions."

"Can you at least tell me the topic or something? _Anything_?"

He shook his head. "Trust me, I would if I could. Please let it go for now."

"Alright." I dug the mangled bundle of pages from my backpack and handed them to him. I would let go of it for now, but I definitely wouldn't forget.

* * *

 **A/N** : Thank you so much for reading! Please tell me what you thought with a review. The sixteenth chapter will be released on **Thursday, May 24th**!


	16. Carbon Monoxide

**A/N** : Because of the reviews, I have been adding a lot more material than what I had initially anticipated. There were many things that I originally skimmed by, but now I want to spend more time addressing because people are expressing interest, concern, and/or excitement. Most of these things could be added as the story progresses, but I've run into one issue that I must add to a _previous_ chapter instead of the next ones. Therefore, there is a new scene in Chapter 14 (Me Too) where Maria takes Gabriella to the hospital for STD testing and a medical exam before school. You don't need to go back and reread it if you don't want to because they don't actually receive the results from it until this chapter.

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **16\. Carbon Monoxide**

 _February 1st, 2018_

Taylor and I sat at our usual spot at the table during lunch, skimming over pages of scholastic decathlon preparation plans and schedules. She said, "We have to be certain that we have enough time allotted for titration problems during our last practice before regionals."

I said, "What if we dedicate that last ten minutes to every practice leading up to regionals for titration problems? That way we won't have to cram it all in at the end and we'll all gradually build up our skills."

"Yes! You're a genius!"

Taylor scribbled some notes in the margins when I happened to look up and find the others around the table staring at something – or someone – behind us. I slowly turned my head towards where their eyes pointed and found Martha. I nudged Taylor, who just said, "Hold on." I poked her again and she looked at me, then around to Martha.

"Hi," Martha said.

"Hi Martha," Taylor said. "What's up?"

She shifted her weight before speaking. "I wanted to know how practice was going."

"It's going well."

"I see." She nodded and looked away while saying, "Look, I know I wasn't as welcoming to Gabriella as I should have been. And Gabriella," she looked at me, "I'm so sorry. I came over today to ask if there was still a spot for me."

Taylor and I looked at each other for a moment, then Taylor said to her, "Of course there's room. I hope you're free on Tuesdays after school because that's when we decided to meet."

"Can't wait!" Martha smiled. "Thank you."

I offered, "Do you want to sit with us? We were just talking about practice. I have notes from the previous meetings. Put your stuff down. Let's get you caught up."

She pushed her backpack underneath the table and sat on the stool next to me. "I never stopped studying."

"Were those titrations too irresistible?"

She laughed and said, "I'm obsessed with them! I bet you picked up on them fast."

"I see everything in the shade of phenolphthalein indicator now."

"Oh God, I know. Even my dreams are tinted pink."

…

Around ten minutes into a book discussion in my British Literature class, an aide pulled me from class and escorted me to Mr. Reynold's office. He stood behind his desk with the speakerphone positioned in the center of the large slab of glossy wood. He said, "We're all here now."

"Hello Gabriella," the voice I recognized as our lawyer said.

"Hi. What's going on?"

"They have made a decision."

Mom asked from their end, "What's going to happen?"

Our lawyer explained, "Due to insufficient evidence in the reports filed against him, the prosecutor cannot press charges."

Dad's voice broke as he repeated, "Not pressing charges?"

I asked, "So they didn't believe me?"

Mom answered, "They thought there wasn't enough proof of it happening, not necessarily that you made it all up."

"Is he coming back to East High?"

The lawyer answered, "That would depend on the school. If they decide to expel him, he cannot return."

Mr. Reynolds said, "Superintendent Patricia Smith has been asking for my recommendation and as Gabriella's advocate, I have made it abundantly clear there are repercussions for reintroducing a perpetrator to his victims. Superintendent Smith is looking out for Gabriella and the other girls' best interest. I can almost guarantee that Anthony will be expelled."

"Alright," I sighed and Mr. Reynolds shot me a concerned glance. My parents asked if I wanted to be taken out of school for the rest of the day, but I declined. Maybe I hadn't processed it yet, but I was completely unfazed. Carbon monoxide is a sneaky gas. You can't smell it. You can't see it. You won't even know it's there at first. But if you stay in it long enough, it will kill you. Slowly being poisoned by an odorless, invisible gas was how I felt as the day dragged. I started to feel a tinge of sadness after returning to Literature class, but ignored it and pressed on. I pushed it to the back of my mind while taking notes in history class, but it forced itself back into the forefront of my mind, bumping Napoleon Bonaparte completely out of the picture. I excused myself to the restroom, rushing through the hallways in an attempt to shake off the toxic fumes. The cloud of poisonous gas became too dense to breathe through, and I knew I needed some fresh air.

I found the science hallway and tried the handle, but it was stuck. I pulled it up and down out of frustration before landing one loud smack onto the metal door and walking away in defeat. I was just a few steps away when I heard it open. I turned around to see Troy holding it cracked open.

I said, "I didn't know you'd be out here." I walked out and he let the door shut behind us.

He turned to walk up the stairs and said curtly, "Well, I am."

I caught up to him and asked, "And why is that?"

"I told you." He took a seat on the bench. "I come up here when I'm stressed."

"What's stressing you out?" I sat down next to him, the overgrown bush tickling my arm.

Troy leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, "I don't really want to talk about it. I hope you understand."

"I do," I said. I plucked one of the green leaves from the bush and tracing its veins with my eyes while I listened to Troy's breathing.

"Why did you come up here?"

I looked out across the garden to a pot of purple and white flowers in thought. "I felt this overwhelming sadness. I tried to ignore it, but that didn't work. I decided I needed some fresh air."

Troy slowly nodded his head, and then asked, "Were you thinking about what happened when you became sad?"

"No. Not consciously, at least."

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright."

We were sitting there quietly when he suddenly spat out, "My parents hate each other." He paused, letting the words hang in the air before expanding, "There's so much yelling and arguing at home. It's an awful place. The animosity and tension in the air is so thick; it gets hard to breathe."

"I understand that feeling entirely."

"What's more messed up is that I almost wish they would divorce. They'd both be happier with other people."

"Have you thought about telling either of them what you think?"

He shook his head. "They wouldn't appreciate that. I'd probably just get lectured for saying it. Divorce is not an option. They're too proud for that."

"You think staying married comes from a source of pride?"

"Staying in a _failed_ marriage, yes. My parents would rather keep a stale, decade-old promise and be miserable if it means don't have to admit they made a mistake."

"I'm sorry, Troy."

He looked at me and sent a weak smile, and then faced the beautiful landscape across from us again. As we gazed out at the mountains in the distance, I allowed my heavy head to lean over until it rested atop Troy's shoulder _._

* * *

 _February 2nd, 2018_

Taylor and I walked arm in arm while navigating through the sea of students and parents entering the crammed gymnasium. We walked into the crowd of red and white and found seats in the top row of the bleachers. I felt my shoes peel off the old spilled pop on the floor as I shuffled in front of the other fans. I brushed off some old, stale popcorn from the flat bleacher surface and hesitantly sat down. "Why do people go to these games?" I yelled over to Taylor, earning me a dirty look from the girl sitting in front of us.

Taylor yelled back over the ruckus, "Some people find it exciting. They come for the adrenaline." She pointed to the entrance of the gym. "Look! Here they come!"

The team sprinted onto the court and began taking practice shots while the other team stripped their sweats and began shooting on their side. The cheerleaders lining the threshold between the court and the stands began leading chants of, "W! I! L! D! Wildcats!" We clapped and cheered along until the referee gathered the teams. Two players stood in the center of the court while the rest of the players circled around them. The crowd was silent for the single moment after the referee tossed the ball up and it was airborne. When the blue player knocked it out of the circle and a wildcat intercepted it, the crowd erupted with cheers again.

I asked, "How long is this going to take?"

"Gabriella," Taylor laughed. "We'll be here awhile. Just try to enjoy it."

"Alright. I'll try." I watched as our team carried a slight lead into the second half, until the scores barely one-upped the other back and forth. By the time there was only a minute left on the clock, both teams were glistening with sweat and breathing heavily as they fought on to the last second. A Wildcat stole the ball after it bounced off the rim and threw it back to Troy at the half-court line. Troy hurled the ball towards our basket and just as the final buzzer sounded, the ball went _swish_ through the net.

Everyone erupted in applause and cheers and I yelled out, "Go Troy!"

"Gabriella," Taylor spoke into my ear. "Do you still like him?"

I asked, "Troy?"

She nodded.

I stayed quiet for a moment in thought, my eyes finding him in the center of the sea of red being hoisted into the air by his teammates. "I don't think so," I said.

"Yeah," she nodded.

I explained, "I don't have any romantic feelings right now." I looked behind me for my purse on the seat when I caught her solemn expression. "Don't be sad for me. It's okay. It is what it is."

"Yeah, I really wanted you guys to get together is all. You'd make the cutest couple."

"I couldn't imagine dating right now."

"The desire for it will come back, I'm sure," she reassured me.

I said, "I'm in no rush. Are you ready to head out?"

"Sure," she responded and we descended the bleachers.

"Hold on. I want to congratulate him."

"Okay." She walked next to me as we stepped onto the court.

Through all the teammates and parents talking to him and patting him on the back, he still saw me. I gave him a little wave and he jogged over. "You guys made it! Thank you so much for coming. What did you think?"

"It was exciting," I said.

"Not quite as thrilling as a scholastic decathlon, I'm sure."

"I don't know yet. I've only been to the practices."

"When is your next competition?"

Taylor answered, "The first of March."

"I'll be there."

I said, "Troy, that's okay. You don't _have_ to come."

"I want to. You supported us, it's only right. Chad and I will be there."

I glanced at Taylor, then back at Troy. "Okay," I smiled. "Thank you."

After mom dropped Taylor off and we arrived home, she brought me into the study and sifted through her files. She turned back towards me and exposed a sealed envelope. I read the front of the mail and saw the hospital's blue logo on the upper left side. I slid my index finger between the pages to tear it open and took out the results. I already knew from the appointment that I wasn't pregnant, but the STD testing took longer. They said that if I had caught anything, they'd call to schedule treatment. Either way, they'd send the results in the mail. Since we hadn't received any calls from them, I was hopeful that I was clean. I read the papers:

* * *

Chlamydia…negative (You do **not** have chlamydia.)

Gonorrhea…negative (You do **not** have gonorrhea.)

Human immunodeficiency virus [HIV]…negative (You do **not** have HIV.)

Hepatitis B…negative (You do **not** have hepatitis B.)

Hepatitis C…negative (You do **not** have hepatitis C.)

Bacterial vaginosis…negative (You do **not** have bacterial vaginosis.)

Syphilis…negative (You do **not** have syphilis.)

Trichomoniasis…negative (You do **not** have trichomoniasis.)

* * *

I looked up at my mom and smiled, "It's good news. It's all good."

"Thank god," she said, stepping towards me and wrapping her arms around me.

* * *

 **A/N** : Without getting too in depth with legal jargon and the American criminal court system, I wanted to briefly explain why the case wasn't strong enough. When they said that there wasn't enough evidence, they were referencing the DNA evidence that was lost when Gabriella showered and had the clothes washed. She didn't let the doctor examine her or use a rape kit the next day in the hospital. The photos from the hospital (and the photos she took) indicate rape, but that wouldn't be enough to **prove** it was caused by Anthony specifically. According to the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network, only 13 out of every 1000 instances of rape "get referred to a prosecutor and only 7 cases will lead to a felony conviction". Although Anthony will not be serving time, the Montez family could take him to civil court. We still have yet to see the school's decision about Anthony's possible expulsion and whether or not Gabriella tells anyone else about what Mr. and Mrs. Brannigan did.

The seventeenth chapter will be out on **Saturday, June 2nd**.


	17. Valentine's Day

...

Where Courage Ignites

 **17\. Valentine's Day**

 _February 14, 2018_

I wasn't aware that there were traditions in public schools for Valentine's Day. Around a week ago, fliers and announcements went out advertising the Secret Admirer's cards. If you paid five dollars, you got to write an anonymous letter to whoever that would be delivered to that student on Valentine's Day. I did one for Taylor with the simple message, "Chicks before guys…or maybe it was something more explicit than that. Either way, I love you, bestie!"

I wasn't expecting to receive any, so I was more than surprised when Mrs. Darbus came up to my desk and handed off a thick stack of envelopes. I hid them in my backpack, and then took off for biology.

"Hey Troy," I said as I sat down next to him.

Troy turned to me and said, "Hey Gabriella."

"Happy Valentine's Day. Did you get any of those secret admirer cards?"

"Yeah, probably about fifty of them."

I laughed, "So a few?"

"You could say that," he smiled. "Did you get any?"

"Yes. I didn't count them, but I had a thick stack. I'm sure it wasn't anywhere near fifty though."

"So you haven't opened them yet, huh?"

"No," I said. "I'll look at them later."

"You definitely should. They're a great self-esteem boost. It's only a little bit of a hassle when I have to turn people down."

"Do you have to do that often?"

"Less than you'd expect, but more than I'd like."

The substitute teacher then entered and yelled his lecture over the talkative class. Later at lunch, Taylor had asked me to wait with her after school for a bit so she could tell me something. Naturally, I was intrigued. I texted my mom to pick me up later and met up with Taylor by her locker.

"Hey Tay," I said.

"Hi," She said shallowly, like she couldn't take in a full breath. When she closed her locker, I caught her big, scared eyes and immediately knew something was up.

"What's going on?" I asked. "Are you alright?"

"I'm going to do it, Gabriella."

"What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to ask Chad out."

My mouth fell open. "That's amazing! When?"

"Right now," she said, her determined eyes peering behind me.

I turned around and found Troy and Chad walking towards us. "I'll get you some privacy," I said. Approaching the duo with Taylor behind me, I grabbed Troy by the forearm and brought him towards the lockers. "Hey Troy! Could we talk about biology for a second?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great," I looked back at Taylor and Chad standing across the hallway by the windows. "Could you tell me when the next test is, Troy?"

"I think it's not for a couple more weeks at least. Why? Is the brilliant Gabriella actually concerned about it?"

"No, I just…was wondering is all." I looked back at Taylor and saw her still talking.

"Okay," Troy laughed. "Hey, have you opened any cards yet?"

"Sorry?"

"The secret admirer cards, have you opened any?"

"No. I haven't. Have you?"

"Yeah, I got through a few. Are my eyes really that blue?"

I laughed, "Yes, they really are."

Troy was starting to say something, but I cut him off when I saw Taylor turn away from Chad. "I'll talk to you later." I ran up to join Taylor and asked, "Well? What did he say?"

"It's not good. He said no."

I pouted, "I'm so sorry, Taylor."

"Yeah, I guess things are kind of complicated with him. It's okay though."

"I have an idea," I stopped and took my book bag off of my shoulders and placed it on the floor. "How about we open up some of our secret admirer cards?"

"Did you say cards plural?"

"Yes."

"Aren't you Miss. Popular? I only got one."

"That's better than none. Open it!"

Taylor removed the card from her back pocket. "It's a shame. I was hoping it was from Chad. We know that's not the case now." She slid her finger into the flap and tore it open. She removed the little card and read aloud, "Chicks before guys…or maybe it was something more explicit than that. Either way, I love you, bestie!" She burst out in laughter, "Gabriella!"

I laughed along, "Do you like it?"

"I love it." She brought her arms around me in a hug. "God, it's so appropriate especially now. Open some of yours! I'm dying to live vicariously through you and hear those admirations."

"Alright, alright." I reached into the bundle and pulled one out. I ripped away the seal and took out the card and saw one word: _Liar_.

"What does it say?" Taylor asked.

"Liar."

"What?" She asked in disbelief, taking the card from me and reading it for herself.

I took out another from the bundle, tore the seal, and opened it to read: _But it felt good, didn't it?_ I snatched back the one Taylor had and threw it and the whole stack into the nearest garbage can. Taylor kept her big eyes glued on the trashcan with her mouth agape.

I crossed my arms over my chest as I felt my eyes water, "I can't deal with that."

Taylor broke out of her frozen stance and threw her arms around me.

* * *

 _February 15th, 2018_

It wasn't until this morning that finally I told my parents about the secret admirer cards. Mom was frying some bacon as dad tried to solve the crossword in the paper. I blurted out completely unprompted, "Something happened." I glanced around like room like I didn't realize I was the one speaking.

Dad asked, "What happened?"

"We have these secret admirer cards. People write anonymous messages to other students that we received in homeroom yesterday. I got a lot. One said 'liar'. Another asked me if it felt good."

My mother yelled, "What? That is sick! What kind of a monster-?" Her growling voice faded away as a look of complete fury crossed her features. "Get me my phone, David."

Dad obeyed, scattering from the table and running upstairs to retrieve her cell. My mother swiftly paced the length of the kitchen angrily, the smoke from the burning bacon rising behind her. I went to turn off the burner as my dad returned with her phone. She snatched it from him and quickly dialed someone.

I asked, "Who are you calling?"

She put up her hand and walked off into the other room. A few moments later, I overheard her yelling, "No! Do not put me on hold! I demand to speak with a superintendent about this issue! The other members of the administration are simply too incompetent to handle this situation!" There was a long pause. "Thank you!" She hung up the phone and stomped back into the kitchen, ripping her apron off and whipping it up against a barstool. "Get ready, Gabriella."

"What's going on?"

"We're meeting with superintendent Patricia Smith in twenty minutes about the cards."

…

The superintendent's office was just a few blocks North of the high school inside the East High Community building. Surprisingly, the superintendent herself met us at the front doors and escorted us in. She was a plump, dark skinned, middle-aged woman who exhibited an intense air of authority. Her black hair was collected into a tight bun on the crown of her head and she walked with a strong posture. Once we were situated inside of her office, all of that changed. "Gabriella, I was just reviewing your file." Her stern features softened in front of my eyes. "I could not begin to attempt to comprehend the difficulty in the situation you face. I hope that today I can offer a way to alleviate some of the pain that these cards caused." As I listened to her, I realized from her tone and cadence that her words had been carefully constructed. Not rehearsed, but taken into consideration. She cared what I thought. She genuinely cared about what happened and what would happen to me. "It will be difficult to prove who wrote the letters and hold them accountable. However, let me reassure you that the anonymous system will change in order to stop this from happening to anyone else."

"How will you do that?"

"We will begin assigning numbers to the cards and tracking whose name is associated with that number when they write their note."

My mother grumbled, "You should forget the whole tradition altogether."

I said, "Mom, I liked her idea."

"How does this change help us now? That system wasn't implemented soon enough and my daughter was hurt by your administration's negligence."

"The program was intended for students to send wholesome messages to their friends or whoever on Valentine's Day. We hadn't considered the possibility that someone would take advantage of the anonymity for malicious intent. We had misplaced faith in the character of our student body. It was a gross oversight and I take full responsibility for it."

"Your regret doesn't get me the names of the monsters who hurt my daughter!"

I attempted to diffuse her. "Mom, it was just words. I mean, I've been through worse. Mrs. Smith, you're the first person from the school I've talked to that actually makes me feel like I'm being listened to – you and Mr. Reynolds. The others have either shrugged me off or made me regret telling them."

"What others?"

"When I went to speak to a counselor about what happened, the only counselor there that day was Mrs. Brannigan. She kept insisting that I was mistaken and that Anthony would never do such a thing. She must have told her husband because the next day in class, Mr. Brannigan took me to the supply closet and started yelling at me and saying that I was a liar and a cheat. Finally I went to the dean, but she made me reschedule, and then I had to file my report in front of another student because she couldn't make time to see us separately. She asked me why I didn't come forward sooner and if I went to the hospital or the police. She was very dismissive about both of our testimonies. She talked about passing the information along like she just didn't want to be bothered by it. Martha Cox can confirm this, she was there for that one."

My mom's jaw dropped and she said, "You never told me this."

Mrs. Smith said, "Needless to say, I am incredibly disappointed in my staff for how they handled your situation. Nobody should be questioned and attacked after what you've gone through. Gabriella, let me personally promise you that they will be placed on administrative leave pending an investigation. It is my duty and obligation to ensure that students such as yourself are met with the compassion and attention expected from the administration."

I heard my mother's sharp inhale before she yelled, "I want them fired!"

"I take these allegations very seriously, Mrs. Montez. I promise you that I will get to the bottom of this."

My mother pointed to her threateningly, "If something doesn't happen soon, I will have your job. I can promise you that." With her glare still stuck in her eyes, she looked to me and ordered, "Let's go."

As I finally caught up with her quick steps in the parking lot, I asked, "Why did you do that? Mom, why did you say that to her? She's trying to help us."

"They're _her_ employees."

"Still, I meant it when I said that she's the first person from school to actually want to help. Don't make her regret meeting with us."

"I'm sorry, Gabriella, but she needs to know that we will not back down."

"She's not the problem. She's our ally. We need someone up top who's on our side. We can't be turning away someone powerful who wants to help us."

"How are you so convinced that she's not just trying to please us to avoid a lawsuit?" Before I could respond, she turned and got into the van without another word.

* * *

 **A/N: Not all of the cards Gabriella received were hateful. Some of them were anonymous letters of encouragement and support for stepping forward to face Anthony from random members of the student body who had heard about her story. Unfortunately, she threw away the whole stack after opening two of the bad ones so she didn't get to open those…nor the one from Troy.**

 **As always, please let me know what you thought of the chapter. Do you think Mrs. Montez is right to criticize and distrust Mrs. Smith? What do you think is so "complicated" in Chad's life that he can't go on a date with Taylor?**

 **The next chapter will have a lot of answers. You can expect it on Monday, June 11th. :)**


	18. Rediscovered

...

Where Courage Ignites

 **18\. Rediscovered**

 _March 1, 2018_

It was the night we had been waiting nearly two months for. All our practices went towards this one evening. It was the night of the state scholastic decathlon meet. Our team was gathered in a small break room just outside the lecture hall. Taylor was putting the final touches on our coats, pinning on little wildcats onto the breast pockets. "You all look sharp," she said. "Everyone get in a circle."

I approached Taylor's side with Martha on my other and the rest of the team followed. "We've been working on this for quite sometime," Taylor began. "Arriving to this place was no small task, as you all certainly know. I want to say that regardless of the outcome tonight, I am proud of each and every one of you for being a crucial part of this team. Now…Let's take state!"

We all applauded and cheered when an organizer came into the room and instructed us to follow them down the hallway to the lecture hall. I waited behind Taylor until the host announced our school, and we orderly filed into the room. We couldn't miss Troy and Chad in the audience, who were cheering loudly as though they were in a gymnasium. Perhaps it was their enthusiasm was just what we needed to secure our spot at Nationals!

The team slowly walked through the aisle towards the exit, receiving congratulations on the way out. "Good hustle!" Chad said before high-fiving Taylor. By the time we made it to the hallway, I still couldn't find my parents.

"Chad," I said, "did you see my parents leave?"

"Yeah, I think1 they and Troy already went out."

I felt my stomach drop. We quickly traced our steps back out the front door and finally found mom, dad, Isabella, and Troy. I would have been concerned given what happened last time dad and Troy spoke, but everyone seemed calm…at least for now.

I cautiously approached and asked, "What's going on?"

Troy slightly jumped when he heard me and said, "Hey! Congratulations. You earned it."

"Thanks, Wildcat. What were you all talking about?"

Mom answered, "We were just talking about where to go to celebrate for dinner."

Troy backed away and said, "Anyway, I don't want to intrude. Have a good night, Montez family." I watched him as he jogged over to Chad, still wondering why on Earth he'd want to talk to my parents again after last time.

* * *

 _March 2, 2018_

"Take a specimen," the substitute teacher instructed, reaching his hand into the cooler and removing a packaged object. "You want to cut along the edges of the seal so you don't do damage to the specimen," he instructed, taking a scalpel and digging it into the packaging. "Carefully pull back the top layer," he said, ripping it open and causing some of the preservation juice to squirt out. "Then take out your specimen." He ended his demonstration by holding up the dead frog for all of us to see.

Even though our station was all the way in the back of the lab I still leaned away from the dead creature.

"Alright," he sat the frog down on his table with a _splat_! "One partner gets the specimen, one get the tray, gloves, and two scalpels."

Troy looked at me. "Which do you want to get?"

"The materials, definitely."

"You sure you don't want to pick out our little froggy victim?"

"No thanks, I'll leave that up to you." I left to grab the items and met up with Troy back at the table. "He said to cut along the edge of the seal," I told Troy, setting the scalpels down next to him.

"I know," Troy said with a smile. "I was listening too, you know."

I smirked. "I'm just making sure."

Troy put his gloves on, picked up a scalpel, and sliced into the packaging. He carefully pulled the top layer off to expose the frog.

I put on my gloves. "Poor little guy. He didn't ask to be dissected."

"I think if little Kermit were still alive, he'd tell you it's alright."

"No he wouldn't! I wouldn't tell someone it's okay to cut _me_ up."

"Kermit would be honored to be part of an educational experience."

"That's nonsense."

Troy lifted opened the frog's mouth and spoke in an incredibly convincing Kermit voice, "Find my liver, Gabriella."

"Troy!" I playfully slapped him on the arm.

"Take out my liver, Gabriella. It hurts Kermit."

I bent over at the waist and held onto my stomach, leaning onto Troy's arm as I broke out into a fit of laughter.

A voice from the front of the room yelled out, "Will you two in the back stop kidding around and pay attention!"

Speaking like Kermit still, Troy began, "Sorr-" before clearing his voice and saying normally, "We're sorry."

I hid behind Troy as I struggled to contain my laughter.

The teacher continued, "Now that you have your frog out, pin back his appendages on the tray."

The teacher's instructions quickly faded to white noise as I slowly turned my head to look at Troy. The moment he glanced over and saw me smirking at him, a cackle escaped his lips. He gently pinched me in the elbow until I batted him away and redirected my eyes towards the substitute teacher. The large smile plastered on my face wouldn't crack even once the teacher ripped open the poor demonstration frog's chest. The door opened and an aid from the office went over to whisper something into the substitute's ear. I had already thrown away my gloves and was gathering my things when he said my name. The room fell silent as I made my way out to follow the aid to Mr. Reynolds' office.

"Gabriella," he said, standing to greet me.

"Hey," I dropped my bag onto the armchair and asked, "what's going on?"

"I just received word from Superintendent Smith. Anthony has officially been expelled. He is not allowed back at East High."

"Good. That's good. Thank you Mr. Reynolds."

"Has your family decided whether or not you want to take them to civil court?"

"I know my parents want them to pay, but I don't want to face him in court. It was one thing talking to investigators about what happened, but I don't think I could talk about it in front of him."

"There are many ways you could prepare to testify if you choose that route, but if it makes you too uncomfortable, don't let your parents push you. I understand why they'd want to push this further since lawyers can be extremely expensive, but it should be your choice. If they need to be gently reminded of that, let me know. If there's anything more I could do, please let me know."

"Thank you Mr. Reynolds."

* * *

 _March 3, 2018_

Tonight there was an away game at North High. I convinced my mom to drive Taylor and me all the way out to their campus to watch the Wildcats play. After we filled our arms with popcorn, nachos, and pops, we found some seats in the far end of the bleachers.

Taylor said as we waited, "I still can't believe we're going to nationals." It's been all she's been talking about lately.

"Why not? We have such a strong team."

"It's been sixteen years since East High last appeared at a national competition for anything academic. It's an unbelievable feeling to be a part of something so monumental."

"You think any other Wildcat in this gym knows about our scholastic decathlon victory besides us?"

"Honey, I'm guessing none of them know we even have a team. They're all too busy counting baskets and touchdowns."

The exciting drums from Kanye West's Black Skinhead suddenly erupted over the sound system. As everyone rose to their feet and started cheering, I yelled over her to, "It's the adrenaline!" We looked towards the cheerleaders lined up on either side of the doors to the locker room. They raised their pom-poms in the air to make a tunnel for the athletes running through with Troy leading the group. They gathered on the court and began taking practice shots as the team in green flooded onto the court from the other side. I watched Troy as he slowly dribbled his ball and scanned the crowd on our side. He kept looking around until his eyes finally connected with mine and I felt myself instinctively suck in a breath as my heart skipped a beat. He smiled to me and waved, taking a shot from the three-point line and effortlessly making it swish. He looked back to me for a moment before his dad called him over to the side of the court.

The first half of the game was tough to watch. North High gained a healthy lead of twenty points. After the coaches ushered their players to the locker rooms, the crowd loosened. As Taylor and I waited in line to refill our pops, I thought about what had happened before the start of the game. When Troy found me in the crowd, it literally took my breath away. After the way I felt with him when we dissected the frog and now this, I couldn't deny it to myself anymore. Something I thought I lost had been found – my attraction for Troy.

"Hello? Earth to Gabriella!" Taylor said.

"Sorry, what?"

"What were you thinking about?"

"Can you keep a secret?"

"Of course."

I whispered my discovery into her ear.

"Aw," she cooed. "That's great, Gabby! Are you going to tell him?"

"No way."

"It's okay if you're nervous. Most people are for that kind of stuff."

"No, I mean I'm not sure if I even want to date him. I don't think I'd want a relationship or anything. I like him a lot, but I'm just not sure about jumping into boyfriend-girlfriend territory. That probably doesn't make any sense, but it's how I feel."

"It doesn't have to make sense. You don't need to explain yourself. I'm just excited that you have feelings again and there's some _potential_ for more between you."

The five-minute warning bell rang and while everyone else swarmed the concessions stand, Taylor and I squeezed back into the gym.

* * *

 _March 5, 2018_

This morning, my parents finally brought up the possibility of taking him to civil court. It started with my mother gently nudging us into the topic. "The bill for the lawyer came today."

I looked up to my father who appeared frozen.

She folded her hands together on top of the table and said, "We'll have to dip into your college fund to pay for it."

When I didn't respond, I saw my parents exchange blank glances. My father finally cleared his throat and said, "Gabriella, we could really use the money from winning a civil case."

I argued, "That's assuming we'll win. What happens if we _lose_ the civil case? Would we have to take all the money out of my entire college fund and sell the house?"

Mom said, "The lawyer sounded optimistic about our chance."

"That's because he gets paid no matter what happens to us."

"Gabriella, your father and I have talked about this. We think it'd be best to take him to civil court. You'd have to testify, but the lawyer can help you prepare so that it won't b-"

"I'm not going to testify."

"Gabr-"

"I won't testify! It's my choice whether or not I want to face him and I've decided that I never want to see that monster again. End of conversation." With my appetite completely ruined, I cleared my plate and went to wait in the van for my mom.

…

I had just sat down with my tray of food at the lunch table when Taylor came running up and said, "I have something to show you."

"What is it?" I asked.

Taylor threw her rolling back pack onto the table and removed her phone from it. She handed it off to me, "Read."

* * *

 **Chad Danforth**

 **Tag(s)** : Ryan Evans

 **Status** _: I have something important to announce to everyone. Many of my close friends and family already know about this and with their support, I am comfortable enough to officially come out to everyone else as gay. I never thought this day would come. I used to suppress my feelings and attractions because I wanted to be "normal". I am not ashamed of what I am anymore. I am out and I am proud._

 **Likes** : 759

 **Comments** : 103

* * *

"Whoa! Did you know?"

"Yep!" She sat down into her chair. "He explained that he and Ryan were in a secret relationship when I asked him out. He asked me not to tell anyone, which is why I didn't tell you about this. Now that he's decided to come out, you can know why it didn't happen between the two of us."

"I'm so happy that he came out to everyone. I hope no one gives him any trouble for it." I put my hands around my turkey sandwich when a paper airplane suddenly crash-landed on it, burying its nose deep in the bread. I stared at it in shock before glancing up to the balcony and briefly caught a glimpse of Troy ducking away. I opened the airplane and read the two words: _Rooftop garden_. "Excuse me," I gathered my things.

"Where are you going?" Taylor asked me.

"I have a secret meeting to attend," I handed her the opened airplane to show her the note.

"Don't get caught," Taylor warned me.

"No promises." I ran up to the science wing and lightly knocked on the door. Troy let me in and said, "Hey."

"So, secret agent Troy, what's this secret meeting about?"

He laughed before rubbing the back of his neck. "You remember back in late January when I went over to your house and your dad and I talked for awhile?"

"And that mysterious 'I'm not' phrase you couldn't explain? How could I forget?"

"Yes, that," he chuckled. "Basically, I told him that I wasn't going to pursue anything romantic with you. At that time, he thought that I was only coming over to get something more out of you, so that's why I kept telling him, 'I'm not'. I didn't want to tell you about it because I didn't want you to think that I wasn't interested in you at all. He and I have discussed some compromises since then and with his permission, I wanted to ask you out on a date. Before you say yes or no, I want to say that regardless of your answer, I will still be there for you. If you want to stay friends, I will still support you and hang out with you. I will be there for you either way. It's entirely up to what you want to do."

I stared at him blankly as he became increasingly restless.

Finally, he begged, "Can you just say _something_?"

"Sorry," I said with a smile. "I'm just not sure that I'm ready to jump into a relationship. Can we agree to one date for now?"

"Absolutely!"

* * *

 **A/N: Thank you so much for reading! What did you think of Chad's announcement and Troy's explanation for the "I'm not"? The next chapter will be out on Wednesday, June 20th. **


	19. Women's Empowerment Society

**A/N: Very sorry for the wait. I had some things pop up that needed my full attention and I accidentally missed my posting date. Please enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Where Courage Ignites

 **19\. Women's Empowerment Society**

 _March 9, 2018_

My mother picked invisibles fibers off of my shirt while we waited for the sky blue pickup truck to roll into the driveway. "Mom," I batted her hands away. "I'm fine."

"No, you're not! You have dog hair all over you. And we don't even own a dog! Maybe you shouldn't wear black. Do you want to go change?"

"No, he's going to be here soon."

"Gabriella, you don't want to look like you're wearing fur on your first date."

I heard my father's heavy footsteps approaching us from the living room. "She looks beautiful, Maria. Leave her alone."

"Of course she's beautiful! I'm just concerned about the ugly that's _on_ her. Go put on a different shirt."

I rolled my eyes and stomped up the stairs. I took the black blouse off and found a red and white, stripped V-neck. I put it on and looked at it in the mirror, letting my finger drag down over my neck where the bruises once were.

My mother's voice called out, "He's here!"

I felt a jolt in my core and ran down the stairs just as my father was opening the door.

"Troy," He greeted him.

"Good evening, Mr. Montez," Troy said, looking from him to my mother, and then finding me shyly leaned up against the wall.

My mother reached her arm out to gesture me over and I walked up to her. She asked, "What do you have planned tonight?"

"I was thinking we'd go to the arcade and get dinner, if that's alright with Gabriella."

I shyly spoke, "Sounds like fun."

My father asked, "When will you have her home by?"

Troy responded, "By nine."

"Alright," my father nodded. He put his arm around me and said, "Don't get into any trouble, mija."

"Alright," I stiffly hugged him and approached Troy, who led me out to his car.

Admittedly, the ride to the arcade was kind of awkward. We both were quiet as he drove and I fidgeted with the buttons on my sleeve, nervously popping them in and out of their slits. We both attempted to start some small talk, but it just wouldn't happen.

The awkward silence continued as we waited in line to order pizza and buy coins for the games. I feared that maybe all of this was happening too soon, that maybe I wasn't ready to date until we entered the arcade.

"Which do you want to play first?" He asked me.

I paced the neon room, glancing at all of the screens and setups. I brought my hand up to my chin in thought when I heard Troy speak up from behind me.

"This is lame, isn't it?"

"No," I reassured him. "It's not lame."

Troy rubbed the back of his neck, "Then am _I_ lame? I can tell that you're not having a good time." He slouched over in a defeated stance. "It's either me or this place, and I'm not very confident that it's not me."

I furrowed my brows together in confusion, "I'm sorry, that was too many double negatives for me to follow."

Troy released a tense laugh, "Sorry." His worried eyes stuck on me.

"Neither this date nor you are lame. I think I just feel a little…pressured."

"What do you mean?"

"Not that you're pressuring me or anything like that. It's me. It's all my own doing. I'm putting pressure on myself and on this date to be perfect because I want that. It's selfish and unrealistic, but that's what I expected from myself."

Troy shook his head, "Don't worry about being perfect, Gabriella. It's so cliché, but you're your best you when you don't try. You know, it's only when we worried about making this perfect that we both tensed up. So let's agree to just let it go. Let's forget about making this the perfect first date. Let's loosen up, play some games, and have a good time. What do you say?" He opened his palm up and offered out the coins to me.

I smiled, "Deal." I took a few coins and approached the air hockey table. "Hey, do you have a pen and paper?"

He looked at me bizarrely, "No, why would you need that? You want to keep track or something?"

"No, I just thought you might want to take notes as I school you."

Troy let out a loud laugh, "I don't think so!"

Not like I meant to keep track or anything, but I won seven out of the ten air hockey games. At the end of the day, scores don't matter. All that matters is that you had fun (and winning makes that a lot easier).

…

Troy parked his pick up truck in our driveway and turned off the engine. "I'll walk you to your door," He said, climbing down and coming over to my side to assist me.

"Thank you," I said, my chest shaking against my pounding heart. I anticipated that he would kiss me on the stoop like they do in the movies after a first date.

When he turned to face me under the porch light, I thought I might pass out from all the excitement.

He said, "Well, I had a great time with you tonight, Gabby."

"I had a fun time, too!"

"Have a good night," his fingers found my arm and he began leaning in.

I closed my eyes and slowly lifted myself onto my toes.

At the last moment, he moved his face to the side of mine and wrapped his arms around me in a hug.

I stood frozen in my spot as he descended the porch steps. I watched the back of his head as he slowly walked further from me. "Troy!" I called out.

He spun around and said, "Yeah?"

I jumped over the steps and ran up to him before rising on my toes again and kissing his cheek. "Thank you for tonight."

* * *

 _March 23, 2018_

Over the last few weeks, Taylor and I have been talking with Superintendent Patricia Smith and Mr. Reynolds about setting up a women's club at the high school. We decided that the organization would campaign to raise awareness for women's issues in the school and any money donated to us would be put aside to send to women's charities. Taylor made a few posts on her social media and we hung fliers in the women's restrooms detailing the group's objective and asking for those interested to meet with us today after school in the library.

When Taylor and I came to set up, we found to our surprise that Mrs. Falstaff, the librarian, had already lined up the tables and set out coffee and cookies. "Wow," I said. "Thank you so much for doing all of this. We really appreciate it."

She quietly spoke, "I heard about what you two are doing and I think it's wonderful. My daughter was sexually assaulted in college. You have no idea how common that kind of thing really is. From the bottom of my heart, thank you." She disappeared to her desk at the front and left us to prepare.

I expected two or three more people besides Taylor and I. Instead, a group of about fifteen girls swarmed the area. I approached the front of the room and said to them, "Welcome to The Women's Empowerment Society, a new club for women in East High. My name is Gabriella Montez and I will be your president. On January thirteenth of this year, I was misled into drinking and raped by another student at a party." I paused for a moment to breathe, the girls in front of me remaining silent. "The backlash I faced from both the administration and members of the student body has shown me that there is a serious issue at East High. Our culture needs to be one of acceptance and sympathy for women, not doubt and retaliation. This club aims to educate the student body on women's issues and rally for change. Now, let's start with some introductions to get to know each other. Taylor?"

Taylor came to my side and said, "My name is Taylor McKessie, captain of East High's Scholastic Decathlon team. I helped Gabriella start this club because I've faced a lot of sexism in my life, especially as a part of an academic team. I've seen other teams not allow their female members to compete during matches because they perceive us as weaker and not as intelligent as the guys. I've seen other members try intimidation tactics to scare off more women from joining, but that just made me hold onto my position even harder. I don't want to wait any longer for change, I want to make the change happen."

I gestured towards a blonde in the front row. She proudly stood and said to the others, "Sharpay Evans, lead actress in every East High production since my freshman year. I wanted to join because I'm getting annoyed with all the ogling and catcalling in the hallways. The dean refused to do anything about it, claiming that boys will be boys. I think that's a sexist, bullshit excuse that pardons young men from taking responsibility for their actions."

The moment she plopped down, the blonde next to her popped up and said, "Tiara Gold, Sharpay's understudy. I joined to help the women who are still too afraid stand up for themselves, and because it pisses off my sexist father who ignores all of my opinions, saying they would only appeal to 'immoral feminazis' and 'freedom-hating terrorists'."

A pair of red-haired cheerleader twins stood introduced themselves next as Sandra and Stephanie. Then Martha gave her introduction to the group. Into the next row, a girl I recognized from the social media posts about East High's me too movement stood and said she was Kelsi Nielsen, reminding us that she was sexually assaulted by Anthony a couple years ago. After the others had finished telling us about who they were and why they joined, Taylor said, "Next on the agenda is to plan the next few month's worth of campaigns, fundraisers, and meetings. I'd like to open the floor for anyone who has suggestions for issues they'd like the club to address."

Kelsi stood and spoke in her soft voice, "I thought it'd be fun to do a carwash fundraiser, but instead of having us in bikinis washing cars, we just organize and oversee the event, but have the guys basketball team do all the washing."

The room responded warmly with a harmony of excited woos and yeses.

A girl in the back who said her name was Tina stood next and said, "My mom owns a bakery and said she would supply all the baked goods for a bake sale if we wanted to do one of those eventually. She asked that we send the money to a charity that provides personal products for women in developing countries."

Taylor said, "I like that idea," and started taking notes of the ideas.

Sharpay stood and suggested, "How about we make posters and fliers about a specific women's issue and change them out to a new one every week? One week could be something like equal representation in the government and another could be the wage gap."

I asked, "What should we do this week?"

Someone yelled, "We need to get the word out about this club better!"

Sharpay offered, "I can post a tweet. I have thousands of followers."

Tiara asked, "Can we start making posters today?"

Just like that, excitement overruled the meeting and all the girls dispersed to raid the teacher's lounge and classrooms for paper and supplies. We regrouped in the library with stacks of paper and armfuls of art supplies. We taped four plain white posters together to make a massive one and soon attacked it with glue sticks and hot pink glitter. Once we were done, we leaned the poster against the table and read the glistening bubble letters: _Join The Fight For Change – Join The Women's Empowerment Society!_

A voice spoke from behind us, "Nice work, girls." We all turned to find Mrs. Falstaff. "The library is closing in twenty minutes."

Taylor asked, "Mrs. Falstaff, would wouldn't happen to have a key to the courtyard, would you?"

"I couldn't let you girls in there."

"We wanted to hang this in the most visible spot in the school, which would be the mascot in the courtyard. Could you make an exception and let us in?"

When she looked unconvinced, I spoke up, "Please, Mrs. Falstaff. It'd really help the club."

"I'm not taking you to the courtyard…but if I go there and just so happen to leave the door unlocked, make sure you lock it when you leave."

After we had hung the poster in front of the roaring mascot on the wall, we locked the door behind us and set off for our cars. Taylor and I were gushing about how happy we were with the turn out when we overheard Tiara and Sharpay arguing.

Sharpay finally snapped, "Fine!"

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" Tiara happily skipped over to us and announced, "Hey everyone! Sharpay is letting us go back to her house for a sleepover! Who wants to come?" As everyone else squealed with excitement, Taylor and I gave each other suspicious glances.

Sharpay asked us, "You're both coming, right? I have enough room for everyone."

…

After much begging, I finally convinced my mom to take us out to the estates on the far edge of the suburbs. She pulled through the gate and let us out in front of a massive mansion. Sharpay's butler led us through the foyer and upstairs to join the others. While a couple of the cheerleaders raided Sharpay's massive closet and others coated their faces in her expensive creams, Taylor and I sat together on the floor next to her empty bookshelf. We found a small collection of CD's and put Lady Gaga's _Joanne_ album into the stereo. Taylor asked me over the opening track, "When do you leave?"

"Tomorrow at six in the morning. My dad wants to fit in some fishing after we unpack."

"That's going to be such a long flight."

"Nothing I haven't done before."

As Gaga's final notes for the opening track faded, the funky 70's beat for _Hey Girl_ filled the air. Sharpay ran to her California king-sized bed and stood on it, rolling her hips from side to side and shimmying her shoulders as she yelled out, "Hey girl, hey girl! We can make it easy if we lift each other!"

Tiara joined her on the bed, rolled her body to the beat, and sang along, "Hey girl, hey girl! We don't need to keep on one-ing up another."

Soon, all the other girls gathered on the bed and sang out, "Hey girl, hey girl! Hey girl, hey girl!"

I quietly sang just loud enough for Taylor next to me to hear, "If you lose your way."

Taylor's voice harmonized with my own as we finished the chorus together, "Just know that I got you."

Sharpay went over to the stereo and turned it down. "Come to the bed, everyone!" She ordered. We all sat atop the Egyptian cotton sheets and she asked, "Gabriella, what were you and Taylor talking about?"

We exchanged a secretive glance and said to her, "Nothing."

"Come on, let's hear it! We're all friends here, after all."

"We were just talking about, um, Troy coming with my family on a vacation to Minnesota over Spring Break."

The English girl asked, "Are you sleeping in the same bed?"

Everyone laughed and I clarified, "My mom and dad will be on one bed, my sister and I on the other, and Troy will sleep on the couch."

"Surely you two can find some privacy for you-know-what."

Sharpay cut in, "Seriously, what are your parents thinking? Don't they know they're just inviting some funky business? Obviously they can't keep you a virgin forever, but still. Aren't they just making it easier for the two of you?" The moment the v-word entered the air, everyone seemed to freeze with their eyes as wide as saucers as a tense silence clouded over us. Sharpay looked around at the stunned girls and asked, "What did I say?"

I answered, "I'm not a virgin, Sharpay."

She gasped, "No! Obviously that scumbag doesn't count. Gabriella, you're still a virgin. Right, girls?" Around the room, the others slowly unfroze and nodded. "See?"

"I'm a virgin?"

"Totally! Well, you haven't had _consensual_ sex, have you?"

"No."

"Then you're a virgin! Easy as that."

"I'm a virgin." I looked over to Taylor.

She nodded and confirmed, "You're a virgin."

"Gabriella," one of the red-headed twins asked, "Why did Anthony's parents get fired? People were saying that they chose to leave after the story got out, but my cousin is an office aid and she said they got fired. Was it related to what happened with Anthony?"

"Yes, Mrs. Brannigan told Mr. Brannigan what happened after a confidential session and then he called me a liar and a cheat."

I realized that all these girls were very curious about me when Tiara continued my interview and asked, "What's it been like for you to date Troy Bolton?"

Sharpay scoffed and sarcastically spoke, "Yes, let's talk about the new girl dating my ex boyfriend. That sounds like good time to me." The tension returned with a vengeance. "Unless," she continued, "You want to tell us. I don't mean to shut you down or anything."

"Um, no, it's fine. I don't need to talk about it."

Sharpay stared at me silently until she finally spoke up, "I hope you don't think that I dislike you for that. Obviously I wouldn't have invited you over to my house if I didn't like you. You think I'm going to let some bitterness come between me and a new friend? Well, maybe a little bit." She winked. "Friends first, enemies second."

"I'm simultaneously excited and terrified to be your frenemy, Sharpay."

Laughter filled the tense air, giving way for a cheerleader to offer her phone to show everyone some texts between she and a guy she likes. As we offered our thoughts on what his emoji usage could mean, I looked around the room at each of their friendly faces. These strangers who were once intimidating blocks composing the massive student body were actually kind, supportive, and harmless. I couldn't believe we were talking and spending time together like actual friends. Who knows? Maybe they would become my actual friends.

* * *

 **A/N: What did you think of Troyella's date and the girls reassuring Gabriella that she's a virgin? Thank you for reading and for your patience between the updates. I will try to have the final chapter out on Monday, July 2nd. That should give me enough time to get everything ready. :)**


	20. The Final Entry

…

Where Courage Ignites

 **20\. The Final Entry**

 _March 24, 2018_

I had my face glued to the cool window, watching as the mile markers on the side of the highway gradually counted down lower and lower. We were about ten miles outside of town when I felt my body overflowing with excitement. In an effort to release some of the energy, I squealed and my leg anxiously started bouncing against Troy's.

"You okay?" Troy asked, pressing his hand down on my knee that was rubbing against his.

I whipped my head back around to look at him and yelled, "I'm better than okay. I'm better than ever!" I called over Isabella to my parents in the front row, "How much longer until we arrive?"

My mother snapped back, "We get there when we get there!"

My father said, "She means eight minutes, honey!"

I huffed impatiently and sat back against Troy. "Only eight minutes!"

"Yay," he said through a yawn, still drowsy from his motion sickness medication.

"I can't believe we're this close to heaven," I said, curling up into Troy's side while he leaned against his window.

I forced myself to wait until my father slowed the van to sit up again. Once I felt the turn onto the lakeside road, I immediately shot up, nearly colliding my head with Troy's chin. I gasped and looked out the window to the scene outside. My excitement quickly sizzled into fear once I realized that the water had severely risen in the years since we left Minnesota.

"It doesn't look good, Gabriella," My father said as he put the van into park.

I crawled up a row to the doors and swung it open, my knees nearly giving out when I jumped out and saw my flooded childhood home. I stepped onto the lawn as far as I could go until my shoes sunk into the soaking grass. I looked on in dismay at the vacant, destroyed property. I heard someone approaching behind me, "It's gone," I cried. "It's all gone."

My father's strong hand gripped onto my shoulder and he spoke, "Some things we have to let go of, or we'll drown with it."

I couldn't shake off his words, even long after we had settled in the bedroom of the little cabin we rented. I was lying on the bed next to Isabella, staring up at the sliver of light on the ceiling in from the gap in the curtains. I glanced over to the shadows where I knew Troy was sleeping on the couch. As quietly as I could, I crawled out of the sheets and snuck over to him.

I gently laid my hand on his chest and he suddenly sucked in a breath. "Wha-?" He began saying, but I shushed him. He whispered to me, "What's wrong?"

"I can't sleep," I said, kneeling down near his head.

He turned onto his side, propped himself onto his elbow, and reached out to run his knuckles down the side of my face. "What's on your mind?"

I instinctively turned my head towards his touch, savoring the contact. I sighed, "It was something my father said earlier when we found the old house. He said that I have to let it go or else I'd drown with it."

"He means that it's unhealthy to dwell on the past."

"I know. It made me wonder…what else could I be holding onto? What else is drowning me?" When someone stirred in their sleep, I twisted my head around towards the noise. After no one got up, I looked back to the shadow Troy lurked in and said, "I'm thinking about Anthony."

The moment his name entered the air between us, Troy dropped his hand from my face and felt for my hand. He tightly gripped it and said, "Gabby, he can't hurt you anymore."

"I know, but I just can't let go of it," I said, tears prickling my eyes.

"It's all in the past, babe." He blindly went in for a kiss, but it landed on my eyebrow. I silently giggled and guided his hand around the back of my neck. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pushed my forehead towards him until they touched. We stayed there in our own little world with our foreheads pressed against each other's until the light turned on.

We gasped and I immediately jumped away from him as my mother ordered, "Get back in your bed, Gabriella."

"Yes, ma'am." With a red tint to my face, I crawled back into the bed I shared with Isabella.

* * *

 _March 25, 2018_

This morning mom, Isabella and I ran into town to pick up some groceries for the week while Troy stayed back with my dad. Dad said that he wanted an early-morning fishing session, but I know he was probably giving him one of those secretive dad talks about dating or whatever they supposedly talk about.

Us girls came back first, so we put the groceries away and started making breakfast. After the guys returned empty handed, they leaned their rods against the outside furniture and hid their tackle boxes in the back of the van. We said our blessing before dishing into the grilled cheese sandwiches and delicious tomato soup.

"Gabby, could you take Isabella out to the you-know-what once you're done?"

Isabella shouted, "Playground!"

"Not until you finish your soup," mom said.

"I not hungry."

"Wait until Gabby's done."

Troy offered, "I can take her out now if you want."

I said, "I'm almost done." I stuffed the last bite of crust in my mouth and slurped down my last bit of soup. I picked up Isabella from her high chair and set her down on the floor. "Let's go play outside!"

She ran up to the screen door and excitedly bounced against the glass. I took her hand in mine and pushed the door open, holding onto her as she tried to run across the gravel road. Once we safely crossed over to the other side, I released my grip. As Isabella rushed ahead to search for toys buried in the sand, I stretched my arms high above my head. I stood on my toes and arched my back, causing my shirt to lift and expose my belly to the ticklish wind.

I heard the pitter patter of someone running up to me from behind and turned to find Troy. "Hey," he said. "You want to play?" He pointed to the yellow tetherball hanging from the pole by a fraying white cord.

"Sure," I said and walked around to the other side of the pole. Troy raised the ball in the air and gave it one good smack. I dove out of the way when it flew into my side and looked up as it kept circling round and round over my head.

"Sorry," Troy said. "You start it this time."

We unwrapped the ball and I smacked it over to him, he let it pass by once before smacking it again at an angle. The ball was circling low on his side, but too far up the pole for me to reach on my side. He hit it again and again until it was completely wrapped around the pole.

He asked, "Should I grab some paper for you take notes since I'm totally schooling you right now?"

"Hey! That's _my_ line! Besides, there's nothing I could do to win since you're taller and an athlete. This game wasn't made for me to win."

Isabella ran up to us and said, "Frog!" She reached out her hand and showed me a tiny brown and green frog sitting in her palm.

Troy crouched down to her and said, "Whoa! Where did you find that?"

"Playground."

"What's his name?"

"It frog."

"Can I hold him?"

Isabella passed the frog into Troy's palm when it leapt out of his hands and onto the grass below. We ran after it as it jumped a foot at a time towards the docks. Our hands were too slow, always cupping the empty grass right after he jumped again. We followed the creature until our toes were submerged in the mushy mud with nowhere else to go besides into the lake.

"I find another," Isabella said, running over to the long bulrushes sticking up from the shallow water.

"She's so sweet."

"Yeah," I said, walking deeper into the muddy water, dragging my hands over the surface of the gentle waves.

The water rippled around where Troy stomped into the lake, going as deep as he could until the water kissed the bottom of his shorts. "We should go swimming later."

"Sure, we have a whole week to squeeze it in." I fought back the urge to fall back into the water and float.

"Gabby," he said. "Come here."

I turned around to find him bent over, his hands disappearing beneath the murky water. "There are minnows in the water."

I bent down to see his hands and a school of tiny, curious fish gathering around them. I slowly submerged my hand into the water as the fish reconfigured to make room for mine. He spread his fingers and slowly moved his hand towards mine until I felt the cold touch and instinctively sucked in a breath. I looked up to him before he dragged his darkening blue eyes to meet mine. His head slowly inched towards me and I closed my eyes, waiting for the moment that our lips would connect. My awkward first kiss lips felt tense against his relaxed, soft peck.

"Turtle!" We heard Isabella's soft voice shout and separated to watch her trot up to us, holding a painted turtle up above her head.

Troy asked, "Is she secretly a Disney princess?"

I giggled, "How else could she have captured these animals?"

…

This trip has shown me that something strange is happening. Something I find great difficulty in articulating. I want to cleanse myself from what happened, but I don't feel ashamed. I want to embrace my new life, but I'm not afraid to look back. So much has changed, but I haven't. When Mr. Reynolds told me that it was possible to go back to how I was before, I was skeptical. Now I feel like being up here in Minnesota has reintroduced me to her.

These pages document a time when I was violated in the worst way and the many obstacles that followed. I lost sight of who I was. I didn't know who to turn to or how to begin to heal. That girl been captured between your covers, but she's not the girl I'm destined to be any longer.

This evening, my father will build a magnificent bonfire. We'll take turns roasting hotdogs and marshmallows, joking about our lousy fishing and how cold it is. I'll laugh along from beneath Troy's arm, snuggled into his big varsity jacket. As everyone goes back inside, I will linger, taking you out from my purse and approaching the massive blaze. I will cast you into the fire and watch as your cover melts and your pages burn, the fire quickly disintegrating you. The wind will grasp the few remaining, glowing particles and I will look on as they are carried up to join the twinkling stars far above.

THE END

* * *

 **A/N: So much to say, but first and foremost I cannot thank you enough for reading this story and for all the encouragement and support.**

 **I'm not making any promises, but _hypothetically,_ if I _were_ to announce a sequel...I'd publish a sneak peak on the end of this story to alert everyone that the new one is coming out. (Now you know what to look out for, _if_ that ever were to happen.)**

 **Finally, I would like to invite everyone to leave a review. Guest reviews are permitted for those who would like to remain anonymous. Please let me know what you think about this ending and/or the story as a whole. And don't forget to follow me to be notified when my next story comes out. Thank you!**

* * *

 **MORE STORIES** **  
(in order of most recent to oldest)**

Too Good: If someone seems too good to be true, it's likely because they are. Troy Bolton is a respected doctor, loving husband, and caring father with one major weakness - Gabriella Montez, the innocent preschool teacher by day and pistol-whipping dominatrix by night. (Troyella)

Leave It All Abroad: Italy was supposed to be the place to relax, reset, and help an old friend. But who else Gabriella finds there could rekindle an old flame and expose a conspiracy wilder than her imagination. This month will be anything but a vacation. (Troyella)

Confessions and Consequences: Troy thinks he knows everything about his best friend Gabriella, but the one thing she never told him might actually destroy their friendship forever. Now that her secret is out, the two must endure the repercussions of unrequited love in order to keep everything between them from coming completely unraveled.

New Year's, 2006: Adrenaline junkie Troy Bolton is always up for the next big thing. He only intended to snowboard and play basketball on this family vacation, not sing karaoke in front a room full of people. What happens when fate puts him in the spotlight? Will he rise to the challenge, or coward away? (One-shot. Troyella.)

Catfish: Amateur investigators Nev and Max help young single mom Gabriella discover the truth behind a mysterious connection.

The Group Project: One day after school, the Wildcats pile in the Evans' home to collaborate on a group paper. When working together in such close proximity, conflict and romance is bound to emerge. (Five-shot. 10 major Wildcats!)

Long Island Medium: It has been six months since Gabriella and East High lost their beloved basketball captain in a tragic accident. In a desperate search for closure, Gabriella makes an appointment with a woman who can talk to the dead. (Troyella. One-shot.)

The Usual: Dropping out of college, moving to New York City, and finding affordable coffee were the first ways Troy Bolton tried to take his destiny into his own hands. With the help of his publishing agent, his best friend, and his barista, dreams of being a published author may actually become reality…as long as he finishes the story before the deadline. (Troyella, Zekepay.)

The Sacred Rays: Troy Bolton's life is split into two distinct parts. His past contained enough catastrophes to break him, whereas today's second chance has given him hope for the future. Will his experience with loss and self-destruction prevent him from trusting his heart again? (Troyella, Chaylor, & Chyan.)


End file.
